Mrs.  J. 
Worthington 
Woodward 


A    NOVEL 


By 

HELEN  BEEKMAN 


BRENTANO'S 

NEW  YORK 
1904 


COPYRIGHT,  1903, 

BY 
WM.  H.  YOUNG  &  CO. 


Dramatization  and  all  other  rights  reservea. 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall, 


COPYRIGHT,  1903, 

BY 
BRKNTANO'S. 


NOTE. 

THIS  story  has  only  recently  been  published 
and  offered  for  sale  under  the  name  of  ' '  Dainty 
Devils."  Inasmuch  as  the  original  title  selected 
was  found  to  be  misleading  as  expressing  the 
character  of  the  book,  the  present  name,"  Mrs.  J. 
Worthington  Woodward,"  was  chosen  as  being 
more  appropriate. 

This  explains  the  head-line  differing  from  the 
title-page  in  the  present  volume. 


S138721 


PREFACE. 


MY  niece,  born  Gretchen  von  Waldeck,  by 
marriage  become  Mrs.  J.  Worthington  Wood- 
ward, and  familiarly  known  in  the  beginning 
and  up  to  date,  as  "  Dot,"  had  held  me  her  slave 
since  the  morning  I  went,  in  the  chill  of  a 
summer  rain,  to  see  my  sister  Margaret's  new- 
born daughter.  An  hour  later,  as  I  sat  dream- 
ily holding  the  tiny  infant,  the  distracted  father 
came  to  tell  me  that  the  young  mother  was  dead 
— my  Margaret  and  his :  mine  first,  if  his  more 
nearly. 

The  helpless  personality  in  the  bundle  within 
my  arms  was  all  that  kept  my  brother-in-law 
from  suicide.  To  that  baby  he  devoted  his  days 
and  his  strength,  and  she  grew  and  thrived  and 
was  blissfully  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  the 
situation  was  a  most  pathetic  one.  No  baby  was 
ever  more  gurglingly  content,  no  child  more  bois- 
terously joyous,  no  young  girl  more  saucy 
and  happily  self -sufficient,  than  motherless, 
brotherless  and  sisterless  Dot.  Watching  her 
with  adoring  eyes,  I  wondered  what  it  must  be 
3 


4  Preface. 

like  to  have  so  keen  a  perception  of  all  the  beauty 
and  gladness  in  the  world.  As  she  grew  up  she 
seemed  impervious  to  any  sense  of  trouble  or 
pain — and,  fool  that  I  was,  I  expected  her  always 
to  remain  as  she  had  been. 

Meeting  her  then,  after  a  six-months'  dwell- 
ing in  the  home  which  marriage  had  brought  her, 
the  half -tearful  gravity  brooding  over  her  young 
face,  the  earnest  questioning  in  her  round  blue 
eyes,  sent  a  poignant  stab  through  my  old  heart. 
In  my  reading  of  the  girl's  nature,  I  had  made 
one  huge  mistake :  the  same  sensibility  which 
responds  to  every  impression  of  joy,  answers  as 
readily  to  sorrow. 

Poor  little  Dot  had  been  having  experiences 
too  rapidly,  and  was  upon  the  verge  of  a  seri- 
ous collapse.  It  was  the  unexpected  receipt 
of  a  telegram  announcing  that  she  and  Jack 
would  leave  shortly  for  Europe,  which  had 
brought  me  into  the  City  to  spend  a  few  hours 
with  this  child,  whom  I  so  loved.  Dot's  father 
was  to  come,  too,  but  not  till  the  last  day  she 
would  be  at  home.  I  was  astonished  at  find- 
ing Dot  so  extremely  nervous  and  overwrought, 
although,  to  be  sure,  some  of  the  gossip  in  which 
she  undeservedly  figured,  had  found  its  way  even 
to  Graytown.  As  I  listened  to  Dot's  rapid,  excited 
talk,  so  rapid  and  so  excited  as  to  be  at  times 
upon  the  border  of  incoherency,  the  painful  real- 


Preface.  5 

ization  of  how  complete  and  trying  the  difference 
in  the  circumstances  of  her  life  had  been,  over- 
whelmed me.  Gravely  and  anxiously  enough  I 
received  all  the  news  she  poured  out  to  me.  I 
think  it  was  a  full  hour  before  I  succeeded  in 
leading  her  away  from  matters  in  New  York, 
and  we  spent  a  while  together  in  Graytown, 
imaginatively.  This  Graytown  conversation 
greatly  improved  matters.  Pretty,  pathetic  Dot 
became  pretty,  laughing  Dot  again.  She  forgot 
temporarily  her  troubles  and  perplexities  until 
some  chance  remark  of  mine — I  do  not  know 
what  it  was — brought  recent  events  and  com- 
plications back  to  her.  There  was  an  immediate 
suggestion  of  tears  behind  the  laugh  with  which 
she  said : 

"  Oh,  Nunk !  I've  an  enormous  secret  to  tell 
you." 

Candidly,  I  felt  slightly  alarmed;  could  there 
by  any  possibility  be  more  "  secrets  "  than  the 
newspapers  published  ? 

"  I've  written  a  book,  or  a  lot  of  stuff  you 
might  not  dignify  by  such  a  name." 

Relief  made  me  gratifyingly  enthusiastic  in 
my  expression  of  pleasant  amazement  at  this  dis- 
closure. Innocuous  sheets  of  scribbled  paper ! 
How  unspeakably  more  desirable  than  new  "  mat- 
ter "  for  newspaper  sensation !  Most  eagerly  did 
I  request  to  be  permitted  to  see  her  "  secret." 


6  Preface. 

We  were  in  the  most  charming  room  in  the 
Woodward  house,  the  library.  Since  Dot's  ar- 
rival, its  large  formidable  desk  had  been  sup- 
plemented by  a  delightful  affair  utterly  feminine 
and  ornamental  in  appearance,  at  which  Dot 
had  penned  notes  and  invitations,  and,  as  we  all 
thought,  nothing  else.  I  was  surprised  to  find 
that  the  fragile  creation  had  a  drawer  that 
locked,  and  which  Dot  now  opened  with  an  air 
of  grave  importance.  She  drew  out  a  wad  of 
manuscript,  and  turned  to  me  deprecatingly. 

"  It's  awfully  mean,"  said  she,  ruefully,  "  but 
my  writing  it  was  a  kind  of  revenge,  I'm  afraid." 

I  reached  for  the  manuscript. 

"  No,  not  yet.  First  promise  you  won't 
laugh." 

"  I  promise ;  I'd  swear,  only  ministers  must 
not." 

Still  her  slim,  little  hands  tightly  held  the 
manuscript  away  from  me. 

"  We're  going  to  Europe  next  week,  Jack  and 
I,  aren't  we  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  all  this  gorgeousness  doesn't  seem  to 
satisfy  my  country  niece." 

Dot  looked  painfully  hurt  as  she  continued : 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  if  we  never  come  back — 
except,"  hastily,  "  to  see  you  and  father.  There ! 
I'm  nervous  and  tired  to  death,  and  ready  to  cry, 
don't  you  see?  Oh,  take  this  paper,  Nunk,  if 


Preface.  7 

you  like,  and  do  just  as  you  please  with  it.  I 
don't  want  to  give  it  to  father.  He  would  grieve 
over  it  too  much." 

I  took  the  manuscript,  and  Dot  wiped  a  few 
tears  from  her  cheeks.  I  did  not  begin  to  read 
until  she  and  Jack  had  been  three  or  four  days  at 
sea.  They  are  safe  in  Switzerland  now,  and  you 
may  read  the  ravings  of  Dot's  brain  if  you  want 
to.  Frankly,  I  found  them  very  different  from 
what  I  had  anticipated,  and  perused  them  with 
interest  to  the  end.  If  the  style  of  her  compo- 
sition seems  crude  and  wholly  regardless  of 
known  rule,  pray  remember  that  Dot  is  not  yet 
nineteen.  Should  too  much  family  pride  appear 
in  her  character,  do  not  forget  that  her  grand- 
father was  Count  von  Waldeck,  who  came  to 
America  during  the  political  troubles  of  '48,  and 
that  as  her  German  blood  proves  itself  in  her 
complexion  and  blonde  braids,  her  mental  quali- 
ties are  no  less  colored  by  the  strain  of  the 
von  Waldecks.  Her  independence,  her  gaiety, 
her  quickness  of  wit,  are  all  American ;  her  con- 
servatism, her  sensitiveness,  her  power  of  think- 
ing things  out,  are  truly  German. 

My  part  is  now  finished.  The  rest  of  the  book, 
beyond  an  occasional  mention,  has  nothing  to  do 
with  DALTON  DARE. 


DAINTY  DEVILS. 


NOVEMBER. 

FOUR  days  ago  we  arrived  from  our  wedding- 
trip,  having  been  married  in  June,  at  my  uncle's 
church  in  Massachusetts.  My  wedding-day  was 
my  eighteenth  birthday.  A  week  after  we  were 
married,  Jack  and  I  sailed  for  Europe,  which 
was  awfully  hard  upon  father,  but  very  delight- 
ful for  me.  The  only  thorn  in  that  rosy  morning, 
was  parting  with  father  when  the  steward 
sounded  the  ghastly  gong  on  the  deck.  At  that 
moment  I  was  dumb  and  blind  with  misery,  but 
I  was  not  deaf,  because  I  heard  the  noise  that 
wretched  steward  made,  not  only  then  but  for 
hours  afterward,  and,  insanely  enough,  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  unearthly  din  took  father  from  me. 
I  cried  so  terribly  that  an  old  maid  with  a  wig 
told  me  three  days  later  I  could  not  possibly  be 
9 


io  Dainty  Devils. 

in  love  with  my  husband,  or  it  would  not  have 
overcome  me  so  to  part  with  my  father.  A 
lot  she  knows !  Jack  hated  her,  too. 

My  husband's  name  is  written  "  J.  Worthing- 
ton  Woodward  "  and  the  men  call  him  "  Worth." 
Now,  certain  people  in  Graytown  had  upon 
several  occasions  absolutely  disgusted  me  by  in- 
sinuatingly asking  how  many  millions  I  should 
"  guess  Mr.  Woodward  was  worth;  "  and  there- 
fore to  call  my  heart's  beloved  by  an  expres- 
sion intimately  connected  with  the  idea  of  his 
money,  was  for  me  next-door  to  an  utter  impos- 
sibility. So  I  asked  him  what  "  J."  meant,  and 
hearing  it  was  John,  the  only  sensible  thing  to 
do  was  to  call  him  "  Jack."  Anyway  I  think 
it  a  contemptible  slight  upon  the  writer  of  a 
Holy  Gospel  to  give  his  name  to  a  child,  and  later 
chop  it  down  to  a  meaningless  initial  used  sim- 
ply as  a  humble  foil  to  a  three-syllabled  middle- 
name.  To  be  sure  we  may  take  it  for  granted 
that  an  Apostle  has  more  common-sense  and  less 
touchiness  than  human  beings  still  trammeled 
with  their  bodies  of  clay.  At  least  I  hope  he  has. 
Because  I  knew  a  stern  old  lady  named  Tabitha 
Ann  who  heard  that  her  daughter-in-law  was 
about  to  name  the  new  baby  for  her.  Greatly 
elated  and  a  trifle  suspicious,  the  grandmother 
hastened  across  the  State  of  Massachusetts  to 
be  present  at  the  christening.  Barely  had  she 


November.  1 1 

laid  aside  her  bonnet  when  she  asked  the  young 
mother : 

"  Are  you  sure  you  wish  the  baby  named  for 
me?" 

"  Yes,  mother,"  sweetly. 

"  And  you  will  call  her  Tabitha — no  nick- 
name ?  " 

Baby's  mama  fidgeted  a  bit. 

"  We  intend  to  name  her  for  you  exactly,  Tabi- 
tha Ann,  and  we  shall  call  her  Annette." 

"  If  you  don't  intend  to  call  her  by  her  given 
name,  have  her  christened  Annette  right  off  and 
be  done  with  it.  I  see  you  are  too  hifalutin  to 
call  the  child  Tabitha.  So  name  her  as  you 
please,  and  may  she  be  proud  of  your  choice! 
As  for  me,  I  am  going  straight  home." 

Temper,  tears,  the  son's  intervention,  more 
tears,  even  a  high  fever — meanwhile  grandma 
had  not  gone,  and  in  due  time  the  minister  brave- 
ly baptized  the  infant  Tabitha  Ann.  There  is 
at  times  a  great  deal  in  a  name.  This  cowardly 
concession  to  the  grandmother  was  worth  exactly 
fifty  thousand  in  the  old  lady's  will. 

Peter,  James  and  John,  do  not  personally  pro- 
test when  they  are  treated  as  this  grandmother 
would  not  be ;  therefore  we  have  P.  Stuyvesant, 
J.  Ferguson,  J.  Worthington,  etc.,  ad  infinitum. 
Perhaps  the  Apostles  smile. 

Jack  is  thirty-five,   very  big  and  handsome, 


12  Dainty  Devils. 

and  half  the  girls  in  New  York  wanted  him; 
some  for  his  millions,  some  for  his  good-looks, 
some  for  both.  Of  course  I  firmly  believe  that 
no  other  girl  ever  loved  him  quite  as  deeply  as  I. 

It  certainly  was  amazingly  queer  that  Jack 
married  me.  People  say  we  shall  be  separated  in 
two  years.  Maybe  we  shall — if  death  us  do  part. 

My  grandfather,  Count  von  Waldeck,  left  Ger- 
many in  political  disgrace  and  noble  poverty  in 
1848.  Being  informed  that  Massachusetts  was 
more  tractable  than  New  York  to  the  learning 
which  he  intended  to  impart— Greek,  Latin,  Ger- 
man and  music — he  turned  his  back  haughtily 
upon  an  offer  made  him  by  a  rich  grocer  upon 
the  voyage,  and  traveled  on  to  Graytown,  where 
he  settled  with  his  title,  a  few  books  and  no 
money.  I  have  never  been  able  to  feel  sure  that 
grandfather's  Greek  and  Latin  would  have  stood 
the  test  had  any  one  applied  for  instruction,  but 
no  one  ever  did,  so  he  kept  the  dead  languages 
for  quotation  and  earned  a  scanty  living  between 
German  and  music.  The  minister  liked  him,  and 
the  minister  had  a  daughter :  small,  dark  and 
sprightly.  She  was  my  grandmother,  and  they 
say  T  have  my  figure  from  her.  I  positively 
have  not  a  German  one,  nor  German  hands  or 
feet ;  I  am  exceedingly  glad  to  have  a  few  Amer- 
ican points,  as  my  face  belongs  in  Bremen. 

Grandmother's  father  insisted  that  she  should 


November.  13 

be  called  Mrs.  von  Waldeck,  and  not  Countess. 
Oddly  enough,  grandfather  did  not  object  to  this 
in  the  least,  although  he  had  a  deal  of  pride  in 
his  name  and  family ;  it  was  only  grandmother 
who  made  a  fuss  and  took  on  an  habitual  pout — 
you  can  see  it  in  her  painted  portrait  up  at  Gray- 
town  Rectory — which  rather  became  her,  and 
which  is  the  expression  I  fancied  noble  ladies 
wore,  until  I  grew  up  and  knew  better.  My 
grandparents  had  only  one  child,  my  father. 
That  grandfather,  loving  the  very  word  "  Ger- 
many," came  finally  to  pride  himself  upon  being 
an  American,  and  dropped  his  title  of  "  Count," 
worked  more  and  more  upon  grandmother's 
nerves,  and,  the  villagers  said,  hurried  her  into 
her  grave. 

That  is  all  nonsense  of  course,  but  grand- 
mother actually  did  worship  a  title,  and  died  at 
thirty-six. 

She  made,  if  not  enemies,  many  "  cool  friends," 
in  Graytown,  by  saying  upon  several  occasions, 
"  The  von  Waldecks  were  of  the  most  important 
nobility  in  Germany,  long  before  America  was 
discovered."  Now  the  Plymouth  Rockers  did 
not  accept  that  statement  with  pleasure,  even  in 
the  end,  and  at  the  beginning  openly  discredited 
it.  However,  one  of  those  persons  predisposed 
to  research  upon  all  possible  subjects — I  think 
he  would  not  have  minded  being  deputized  to 


14  Dainty  Devils. 

look  up  the  genealogy  of  one  particular  mosquito 
— investigated  grandmother's  proud  claim,  and 
discovered  it  to  be  undeniably  true.  The  von 
Waldecks  were  much  more  ancient  than  Colum- 
bus !  The  Plymouth  Rockers,  defeated  but  by 
no  means  baffled,  from  that  day  on  grudged 
grandmother  even  the  bare  name  von  Waldeck, 
without  the  Countess  that  she  craved. 

That  was,  after  all,  some  kind  of  satisfaction, 
however  ignoble,  for  so  appallingly  noble  a  lady. 

Although  I  never  saw  grandfather,  he  must 
have  been  exactly  like  father,  who  inherited  the 
German  and  music  pupils  along  with  the  von 
Waldeck  countenance. 

I  can  well  comprehend  how  grandfather  hated 
the  Army,  and  unlike  his  brothers,  preferred  the 
quiet  life  of  books  and  country  pleasures,  to  an 
Officer's  existence.  I  believe  it  was  the  study 
of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  which  placed  grand- 
father upon  the  side  of  the  People  in  1848,  to 
the  rage  and  horror  of  all  his  relatives  and  ac- 
quaintances. Pride  is  a  sin  in  which  I  have 
some  grievous  participation,  but  in  nothing  am 
I  quite  so  proud,  as  in  the  knowledge  that  grand- 
father had  the  courage  of  his  convictions,  al- 
though that  brave  steadfastness  cost  him  every- 
thing so  far  as  his  Fatherland  was  concerned. 
And  I  am  positive  that  my  dear  father  would 
have  had  the  same  convictions,  and  would  have 


November.  15 

undergone  the  same  exile  with  the  same  calm 
dignity. 

Needless  to  remark  that  father  was  poor,  he- 
roically and  aristocratically  poor,  and  his  mar- 
riage with  the  new  pastor's  sister,  Margaret  Dare, 
did  not  add  to  his  worldly  possessions.  The 
pair  were,  however,  romantically  happy  for  two 
years.  Then  I  came  and  mother  died. 

So  I  grew  up  in  the  "  Professor's  "  cottage, 
where  we  had  hardly  any  furniture  except  books 
— which  I  suppose,  properly  speaking,  only  go 
to  furnish  the  mind — and  under  the  devoted  care 
of  my  father,  supplemented  by  the  spasmodic 
attention  of  Lame  Ann,  who  was  housekeeper 
and  nurse,  and  maid-of-all-work, — and  who  took 
her  meals  with  us.  Father  got  Lame  Ann  to 
come  "  just  for  a  home,"  because  between  her 
limp  and  cross-eyes,  no  one  who  could  afford 
wages  would  take  her.  What  would  have  become 
of  us  if  there  had  not  been  a  Lame  Ann? 

Father  taught  me  a  great  deal.  French  and 
German,  of  course,  and  his  beloved  music,  and 
mathematics  and  history.  For  the  last  he  had  a 
passion  almost  as  intense  as  his  love  for  music. 
He  made  great  men  real  for  me,  and  I  know 
exactly  how  they  looked  and  acted.  From  ten 
years  on,  I  was  always  in  love  with  some  King 
or  Soldier-Knight  of  other  days.  That  I  should 
ever  fall  in  love  with  a  flesh-and-blood  gentle- 


16  Dainty  Devils. 

man  of  modern  times,  the  people  of  Graytown  de- 
clared to  be  impossible.  Father's  friends,  chosen 
almost  entirely  from  the  College  Faculty,  were 
old,  scholarly  and  absent-minded,  and  no  mat- 
ter what  degree  of  affection  I  might  some  day 
attain  for  one  of  them,  he  would  never  recognize 
me  outside  of  father's  study,  for  the  simple  rea- 
son that  none  of  them  ever  looked  at  me.  I 
fancy  that  if  my  corporeal  dimensions  had  not 
obstructed  a  certain  amount  of  light,  even  the 
nod  I  usually  received  would  have  been  want- 
ing, simply  because  my  presence  would  have  re- 
mained unknown.  Sometimes,  it  is  true,  father 
would  pull  me  fondly  forward,  and  into  evidence 
as  it  were,  remarking: 

"  Here  is  Gretchen." 

"  Oh — yes — How  are  you,  Miss  Dot  ?  "  would 
be  the  result  of  this  effort  upon  dear  father's 
part.  You  see  Lame  Ann  could  not  pronounce 
Gretchen,  and  as  she  invariably  called  me  "  Miss 
Dot,"  everyone  in  Graytown  did  so,  except  father, 
who  had  named  me  for  mother,  and  called  my  by 
the  German  diminutive. 

In  spite  of  shabby  clothes,  plain  fare,  and  long 
lessons,  the  years  spent  at  home  were  very  happy 
ones.  We  were  wealthy  in  the  possession  of  a 
good  piano  and  a  splendid  violin,  both  of  which 
I  learned  to  play,  and  when  one  has  lots  of  occu- 
pation and  goes  to  bed  so  tired  that  sleep  is  de- 


November.  17 

licious,  it  would  be  impossible  to  contrive  to 
be  blue.  Although  father  never  said  so,  I  know 
the  fact  that  he  did  not  send  me  to  school  was 
the  best  proof  of  his  great  heartsickness  about 
my  mother,  and  of  his  inability  to  get  along 
without  me  in  the  house.  Lots  of  people  advised 
father  to  marry  again,  and  a  widow  with  a  good 
deal  of  money,  and  five  children,  wrote  him  a 
proposal.  Lame  Ann  knew  the  handwriting  and 
pieced  the  letter  together  out  of  the  waste-bas- 
ket. I  was  only  six,  but  I  well  remember  how 
Lame  Ann  limped  in  to  my  cot-bed  and  read 
me  the  epistle  in  a  mixture  of  holy  horror  at  the 
brazenness,  and  gloating  satisfaction  at  gratified 
curiosity.  A  few  days  later  Lame  Ann  confided 
to  my  youthful  ears  that  father  had  written  the 
widow  a  letter,  saying  he  did  not  approve  of  sec- 
ond marriages. 

How  Lame  Ann  obtained  this  information, 
must  be  left  to  the  imagination. 

Children  are  never  so  stupid  as  some  people 
think.  If  there  is  anything  which  exemplifies 
"  wise  as  a  serpent  and  innocent  as  a  dove,"  it 
is  the  child  of  average  intelligence.  With  my 
small  experience  of  six  years  of  life,  I  instinctive- 
ly knew  better  than  to  speak  of  the  widow  or 
her  letter  to  father.  Not  that  I  reasoned — I 
just  felt  that  I  was,  by  some  uncomprehended 
force,  prevented  from  speaking  upon  these  sub- 
2 


i8  Dainty  Devils. 

jects.  How  I  wish  I  had  the  same  intuition 
to-day !  But  I  have  not.  It  seems  that  the  ser- 
pent's wisdom  evaporates  in  the  same  ratio  as 
the  dove's  innocence. 

Jack  came  into  my  life  as  unexpectedly  as 
though  he  had  dropped  from  the  skies.  He  is 
good  enough  to  say  he  thought  I  actually  had 
fallen  from  heaven  that  day  I  bounced  into 
Uncle  Dalton's  study  with  a  message  from  father, 
that  he  had  met  the  doctor  driving  like  mad  to 
old  Mrs.  Gage,  who  was  dying.  Uncle  rose 
hastily,  and  when  I  realized  that  a  tall  strange 
man  loomed  up  beside  him,  it  was  not  only  the 
breathlessness  from  running  which  kept  me  tem- 
porarily speechless. 

"  Well,  Dot  ?  Thought  I  was  alone,  didn't  you  ? 
Let  me  present  Mr.  Woodward  to  you — My 
niece,  Miss  von  Waldeck." 

I  did  not  even  bow,  but  turned  from  Mr. 
Woodward  to  Uncle  Dalton,  and  blurted  out  what 
I  had  come  to  tell : 

"  Mrs.  Gage  is  dying,  Nunk,  and  wants  you." 

"  Oh,"  said  Uncle  Dalton,  not  a  bit  like  a  min- 
ister, but  exactly  like  the  kind-hearted  gentle- 
man he  is,  "  then  I  must  go  at  once !  Can't  you 
stay  a  while  and  talk  to  Mr.  Woodward  ?  He  will 
be  my  guest  for  the  next  three  weeks,  dear." 

Whatever  made  me  do  it? — Was  it  the  last 
flickering  gleam  of  the  childish  wisdom  which 


November.  19 

I  had  of  late  been  losing  ?  In  those  few  seconds, 
I  remembered  I  had  on  a  blue  serge  frock  made 
three  years  earlier,  and  most  visibly  let  down 
in  the  hem,  and  that  at  home  I  had  a  better  dress. 
Still  there  was  some  other  vague  reason,  new 
dignity,  I  think,  which  impelled  me.  I  drew 
back  and  said: 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  better,  if  Mr.  Woodward 
came  to  call  upon  father  ?  " 

Uncle  Dalton  turned  with  his  coat  half  on  and 
stared  at  me. 

"  1  believe  you're  right,  child.  You  see,  Mr. 
Woodward,  I  forget  that  Dot  has  grown  up." 

Such  a  troubled  look  had  flooded  into  Uncle's 
big  eyes  that  I  felt  too  silly  and  awkward  for 
words.  A  scalding  blush  spread  up  to  my  yellow 
hair,  the  first  wave  followed  by  a  second  at  the 
recollection  of  how  ugly,  according  to  Lame  Ann, 
a  blush  made  me  appear.  Jack  came  nobly  to  the 
rescue. 

"  If  Miss  von  Waldeck  will  permit  me  to  walk 
home  with  her,  I  shall  be  very  glad." 

I  shall  never  admit  to  Jack  the  battle  these 
words  precipitated  into  my  heart.  On  the  one 
side  was  overwhelming  joy  at  the  idea  of  parad- 
ing that  stunning  man  through  Main  Street — and 
I  meant  to  take  him  the  long  way — in  the  face 
of  all  the  matrons  and  maidens  of  Graytown; 
on  the  other  side  was  fierce  regret  that  if  Mr. 


2O  Dainty  Devils. 

Woodward  accompanied  me,  I  should  necessarily 
be  in  my  let-down  blue  serge  with  a  white  cro- 
cheted shawl  for  a  wrap,  and  having  arrived 
with  him,  I  should  be  obliged  to  stay  as  I  was 
through  the  length  of  his  call.  He  would  never 
know  how  nice  I  could  look,  in  other  clothes ! 

"I  think,"  said  I,  redder  than  ever,  "that  I 
— that  father  would  rather  have  Mr.  Woodward 
call  in  about  an  hour." 

"  Oh,"  said  Jack,  apparently  not  at  all  abashed, 
"  very  well." 

Meanwhile  Uncle  stood  holding  the  study-door 
open  for  me. 

"  I  am  naturally  in  a  bit  of  a  hurry  to  reach 
Mrs.  Gage,"  he  said  gravely;  and  from  Uncle 
Dalton  that  was  a  reproof. 

"  Good-bye,  Mr.  Woodward.  You  will  be  sure 
to  come  ?  " 

The  idea  that  Uncle  was  displeased  with  me 
added  immeasurably  to  my  already  great  ner- 
vousness. 

Jack  laughed.  He  says  he  could  not  have 
helped  it  had  his  life  been  the  penalty.  I  un- 
derstood that  I  had  shown  undignified  eagerness, 
and  in  utter  confusion  ran  past  Uncle  and  out 
of  the  Rectory.  Reaching  the  street  I  quieted 
down  into  a  walk.  But  I  went  home  the  short 
way. 

Father,    sitting   in   the    library,    received   my 


November.  2 1 

news  not  at  all  as  I  had  expected,  for  he  had 
known  for  two  days  that  Uncle  was  to  have 
a  visitor  from  New  York,  who  was  in  a  law-suit 
about  some  Graytown  property.  It  was  exactly 
like  father  not  to  have  told  me. 

"  An  old  man,  is  he  not  ?  "  asked  father. 

"  Oh,  no.    Just  right,"  I  replied,  earnestly. 

"  Just  right  ?  "  echoed  father.  "  Just  right  for 
what?" 

"  For— Uncle,"  faintly.  And  Uncle  was  fath- 
er's age! 

"  That  certainly  is  not  young,  my  child." 

"  He's  younger  than  Uncle,"  I  said,  hastily, 
"  and  handsome." 

"  You  seem  to  have  observed  him  well,  Gret- 
chen." 

"  I've  got  to  see  Lame  Ann  about  something," 
I  remarked  irrelevantly,  going  behind  father's 
chair.  Out  of  the  range  of  his  eyes  I  made  the 
announcement  I  had  resolved  upon  because  Mr. 
Woodward  had  laughed  at  me. 

"  Unless  Mr.  Woodward  asks  for  me  particu- 
larly, father,  I'm  not  coming  down." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  Gretchen ;  but  get  ready,  my 
child." 

That  was  exactly  what  I  intended  to  do.  I 
considered  it  uncannily  clever  of  father  to  know. 
Quite  crestfallen  I  sought  Lame  Ann  in  the 
kitchen. 


22  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Ann,  I  was  out  in  the  wind  and  my  hair 
is  awful.  Have  you  time  to  braid  it  ?  " 

"  No,  I've  not." 

"  Oh,  Ann,  how  nicely  you  have  ironed  my 
turn-over  lace  collar.  I  can  put  it  on  right 
away." 

Ann  set  the  flat-iron  down  with  a  vicious 
thump. 

"  And  have  it  crumpled  in  five  minutes !  I 
ironed  it  so  you  could  wear  it  with  your  brown 
cashmere  on  Sunday." 

"  I'm  going  to  wear  my  brown  cashmere  right 
away,  Ann.  I  expect  company.  A — gentleman." 

"  Pooh !  Don't  fix  up  for  the  old  mummies 
who  come  here,  Miss  Dot.  Not  one  of  them 
knows  or  cares  whether  you  have  two  eyes  or 
three.  You  might  just  as  well  be  a  nigger-wench 
for  all  the  difference."  Ann's  scorn  was  magnifi- 
cent, as  she  hobbled  over  to  the  range  for  a  fresh 
iron. 

I  made  a  face  at  her  back  and  picked  up  my 
lace  collar. 

"  My  visitor,"  I  said,  grandly,  "is  from  New 
York,  and  is  not  old.  If  you  don't  want  to  do  my 
hair  for  me,  never  mind." 

I  made  hurriedly  for  the  back-stairs  which 
led  directly  from  the  kitchen  up  into  my  tiny 
band-box  of  a  bed-room.  Lame  Ann  was  almost 
as  quick  as  I  was.  She  came  stumbling  at  my 


November.  23 

heels,  iron  still  in  hand,  and  as  I  shut  and  locked 
the  narrow  door  at  the  top  of  the  steps,  she  sent 
a  perfect  wail  after  me. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Dot,  of  course  I'll  do  your  hair ! 
Lordy,  if  you  shouldn't  be  ready  when  he  came ! 
And  from  New  York !  Open  the  door,  there's 
a  good  child,  and  let  your  old  Ann  in." 

"  I'll  think  about  it,"  I  said,  glorying  in  the 
unusual  opportunity  of  punishing  poor  Ann.  I 
was  rapidly  unbraiding  my  hair. 

"  I'll  put  the  iron  back  and  come  up  again," 
began  the  poor  soul.  At  that  I  darted  to  the 
door,  because  I  could  not  stand  the  idea  of  the 
old  creature  struggling  up  the  stairs  again,  and 
unlocked  it  in  a  rush  of  repentance. 

"  Give  me  the  iron ;  I'll  poke  it  into  the  wash- 
basin. And  hurry,  Ann.  He'll  be  here  soon." 

I  do  not  know  who  was  the  more  nervous — 
Ann  or  I.  Ann,  who  was  immensely  proud  of 
my  long,  unmanageable  locks,  braided  them  once 
and  found  that  she  had  left  a  heavy  strand 
loose.  Undoing  them,  she  pulled  and  tangled 
till  tears  of  pain  stood  in  my  eyes. 

"  If  you'd  stop  asking  questions,  Ann,"  I  said, 
crossly,  "  you'd  probably  get  along  better." 

"  Lordy,  Miss  Dot,  a  gentleman  from  New 
York  doesn't  come  every  day!  But  only  to  stay 
three  weeks  ?  What  a  pity !  " 

If  some  one  had  told  us  then  that  at  the  end 


24  Dainty  Devils. 

of  those  three  weeks  I  should  be  engaged  to 
the  stranger,  I  think  the  notion  would  have  pet- 
rified us.  Yet  Lame  Ann  has  never  ceased  re- 
lating how  she  knew  from  the  first  that  Mr. 
Woodward  was  my  "  fate." 

"  There !  Your  hair's  done,  and  looks  beauti- 
ful. Put  on  that  nice  stiff  white  petticoat,  Miss 
Dot,  the  one  I  did  up  last  week.  It  holds  out  the 
brown  cashmere  so  that  it  looks  like  broadcloth. 
And  a  blue  bow  at  your  throat.  You're  just 
right-complected  for  blue." 

All  of  Ann's  advice  I  followed.  She  was  a 
great  believer  in  starch,  and  when  I  went  down- 
stairs to  father — for  I  had  repented  of  my  rash 
resolution  to  wait  until  I  was  called — he  said 
he  heard  me  from  the  upper  hall,  "  crackling." 

I  did  not  admire  that  word,  nor  find  it  a  com- 
pliment. Before  I  could  protest,  however,  we 
heard  a  step  on  the  frozen  garden-path  and  father 
went  to  open  the  house-door. 

Every  bit  of  that  visit  I  can  distinctly  remem- 
ber. Long  afterward,  when  we  were  married 
and  traveling  in  Europe,  I  asked  Jack  what  he 
had  thought  of  us  that  afternoon  ?  He  answered 
that  his  feelings  were  too  deep  for  words ;  he 
could  have  laughed  or  cried  over  the  whole  thing. 
He  says  my  candid  scrubbing  and  brushing 
and  starching  in  preparation  for  company  dur- 
ing the  hour  which  I  had  asked  for,  made  him 


November.  25 

long  to  laugh,  but  that  dear  father's  fine  face 
and  stately  bearing  in  the  shabby  surroundings, 
made  him  want  to  cry.  To  him  the  most  touch- 
ing part  was  when  father,  after  talking  enthusias- 
tically of  Rome,  said,  in  response  to  a  question  as 
to  how  recent  changes  impressed  him : 

"  I  have  never  been  in  Rome,  nor  any  place 
farther  than  New  York.  Travel  would  be  su- 
preme joy  to  me;  and  above  all  I  long  to  see 
my  father's  Fatherland." 

No  one  but  a  homesick  exile  can  understand 
father's  joy  at  the  discovery  that  Jack  had  grad- 
uated from  the  University  of  Heidelberg,  where 
grandfather  had  also  studied.  Father  had  a 
couple  of  badly-done  little  water-colors  of  the 
River  and  the  Schloss  which  grandfather  had 
treasured  throughout  his  varying  fortunes,  and 
these  father  brought  out  and  showed  with  pal- 
pitating pride  to  his  delightful  visitor.  Were 
they  like? — Would  he  recognize  them? — 

Jack  was  very  kind  to  the  poor  little  pic- 
tures, although  too  honest  to  pretend  that  they 
bore  much  resemblance  to  the  beautiful  Neckar 
and  the  picturesque  ruined  Schloss.  So  deli- 
cately did  he  put  it,  that  no  picture  could  ade- 
quately reproduce  the  charm  and  poetry  of  Hei- 
delberg scenery,  that  father's  sensitive  faith  in 
every  thing  that  belonged  to  grandfather  was  un- 
hurt. The  two  men  became  more  and  more 


26  Dainty  Devils. 

enthusiastic  in  their  conversation,  and  I  accuse 
Jack  to  this  day — insincerely  I  admit — of  hav- 
ing succumbed  to  the  traditions  of  father's  study, 
and  of  forgetting  me  completely. 

Even  were  this  so,  he  assures  me  that  the 
pathos  of  father's  love  and  yearning  for  the  land 
he  had  never  seen,  were  much  more  engrossing 
than  such  a  pink-and-white  piece  of  health  and 
irresponsibility  as  I  was. 

It  is  very  evident  that  while  by  no  means  a 
liar,  Jack  is  at  times  not  scrupulously  truthful. 
Judging  by  myself,  I  believe  he  was  already  in- 
terested in  the  stranger  he  had  met  at  Uncle  Dai- 
ton's,  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else,  pathetic 
or  ridiculous.  Only  I  admit  I  never  could  have 
pretended  that  flattering  interest  in  the  dis- 
cussion of  Heidelberg  which  Jack  did  so  beau- 
tifully. A  positive  climax  was  reached  when 
Jack  sang  some  words  of  a  song  which  began, 
"  Alt'  Heidelberg,  Du  Feine ; "  father  went  into 
raptures  and  something  in  Jack's  voice  made  me 
cry.  Father  could  not  see  me  and  Jack — well, 
Jack  was  the  same  darling  he  is  now  and  had 
the  grace  to  pretend  that  he  did  not  notice. 

The  call  was  prolonged  till  dark.    When  Lame 

Ann  brought  a  lamp,  Jack  went  away. 

******* 

That  was  the  I5th  of  March.  The  events 
of  the  following  three  months  crowded  upon  one 


November.  27 

another.  It  is  an  exceedingly  queer  fact,  but 
fact  it  is,  that  one  person  wanting  something 
makes  some  one  else  want  the  same  thing,  too. 
Gretchen  von  Waldeck,  unloved  and  unknown, 
suddenly  possessed  two  lovers,  about  as  different 
in  birth,  looks  and  breeding,  as  they  well  could 
be.  I  had  known  Jack  two  little  weeks  when 
I  asked  him,  one  day  as  I  sat  peeling  potatoes 
for  Lame  Ann: 

"  Are  you  really  going  away  in  a  week  ?  " 

Jack  took  the  peeled  potato  from  me,  dropped 
it  into  the  basin  of  water  (which  I  explained  to 
him  was  to  keep  it  white  J  and  handed  me  a  fresh 
one.  When  I  recall  this  scene  now ! 

"  No,"  he  said,  smiling  oddly ;  "  I'd  like  to, 
but  I  think  it  will  take  me  longer." 

I  peeled  industriously.  Feeling  that  my  eyes 
would  tell  how  glad  I  was,  I  kept  them  re- 
ligiously set  upon  the  big  potato-eyes  beneath  my 
knife,  instead  of  raising  them  to  the  big  human 
ones  above  me. 

"  Lawyers  are  always  slow,  Uncle  Dalton 
says,"  I  remarked. 

"  It's  not  lawyers,"  said  Jack.  "  It's  something 
quite  different." 

In  my  astonishment  I  glanced  up  quickly. 

"What?"  I  asked,  and  then  hastily  looked 
down  again,  in  the  most  unaccountable  confu- 
sion. Jack's  eyes  had  upset  me. 


28  Dainty  Devils. 

"  You  will  know  some  day,"  he  said,  slowly. 

I  am  pretty  sure  I  knew  then. 

A  day  or  two  later,  in  short,  Sunday  after- 
noon— most  ominous  time — Reuben  Stevens 
came  to  call  upon  Miss  Dot.  Now  society  in 
Graytown  is  entirely  democratic.  I  was  Count 
von  Waldeck's  daughter:  Rube  "was  just  as 
good  " — Was  he  not  the  undertaker's  son  ? 

Rube  was  small  in  length,  breadth  and  thick- 
ness. Afraid  of  suggesting  his  grave  avocation, 
when  not  professionally  employed  he  successfully 
avoided  anything  black. 

Accordingly  his  shirts  and  cravats  were  veri- 
table barber-poles,  and  his  jewelry  jingled  and 
glittered  with  spectacular  garishness.  Rube  re- 
mained an  hour,  interspersing  his  conversation 
of  choir  and  early  vegetables  with  frequent  sighs 
directed  at  me.  Father  was  taking  a  nap,  and 
Lame  Ann  was  reading  her  Bible.  I  do  not 
think  I  could  possibly  have  endured  Rube  that 
long  hour  had  I  not  been  sustained  by  the  thought 
that  Graytown  gossips  would  now  have  vis- 
ual proof  of  their  error — a  young  Graytown 
eligible  had  called  upon  me.  And  on  Sunday 
afternoon ! 

When  Rube  rose  to  go,  he  asked  me  with  a 
great  deal  of  unwarrantable  assurance,  whether 
he  might  come  again.  Personal  prejudice 
made  me  want  to  deny  him  permission;  the  rec- 


November.  29 

ollection  of  the  gossips  stayed  me  in  the  tempt- 
ing ungraciousness.  I  wickedly  told  him  I 
should  be  delighted  to  see  him,  the  next  Sun- 
day afternoon.  I  had  forgotten  the  row  which 
Lame  Ann  would  create.  The  second  time  Rube 
came,  I  should  have  to  ask  him  to  tea,  and  Lame 
Ann  unfailingly  delivered  a  scathing  lecture 
over  every  extra  plate  and  cup  she  had  to  wash. 
Truly,  when  father  invited  Mr.  Woodward  to 
dinner,  Lame  Ann  had  been  all  smiling  interest, 
and  had,  for  the  first  time  since  she  entered  our 
house,  waited  at  table  and  not  sat  down  till 
she  had  brought  in  the  coffee.  I  felt  absolutely 
certain  that  Rube  Stevens  would  not  evoke  the 
like  condescension.  After  five  minutes'  consider- 
ation of  my  rash  act,  I  concluded  not  to  tell 
Lame  Ann  anything  beyond  what  she  already 
knew — Rube  had  called.  How  could  I  have 
been  so  mistaken  in  Lame  Ann  ?  Did  I  not  know 
by  long  experience  that  her  eyes  although  so 
frightfully  crossed,  were  sharper  than  mine,  and 
that  her  ears  in  perfection  of  their  function  out- 
stripped her  eyes?  As  for  her  conscience,  in 
spite  of  long  and  fervent  Bible  study,  it  was  to 
say  the  least,  very  adjustable. 

Barely  had  I  decided  upon  the  diplomatic  si- 
lence, when  Lame  Ann  burst  into  the  best  room, 
where  I  had  received  Rube  and  whence  he  had 
just  departed. 


30  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Miss  Dot,  you  needn't  waste  your  time  on 
that  little  jinny-spinner  of  an  undertaker's  son. 
I'm  surprised  at  you,  I  really  am,  and  disgusted, 
too." 

"  Ann,  you  forget  that  I  am  the  mistress  of 
this  house  and  may  invite  whom  I  please  to  call 
upon  me." 

A  sudden  flame  of  illuminating  good  sense 
flashed  into  poor  Ann's  brain.  As  I  look  back 
I  sincerely  admire  her  for  it.  At  the  time  I  was 
entirely  resentful  of  her  wisdom. 

"  Mr.  Woodward  means  to  marry  you,  Miss 
Dot,  and  he  is  the  best  chance  you  will  ever  get. 
Don't  frighten  him  off  by  this  idiot  of  a  Rube. 
Ask  Mr.  Woodward  to  tea,  and  I'll  make  salad 
and  hot  biscuit,  but  I'll  not  take  a  step  for 
Rube.  I've  neuralgia  badly  of  late,  and  no  one 
knows  when  an  attack  will  come  on."  This  last 
with  a  positively  vicious  sniff. 

"  You're  a  wicked  hypocrite !  "  I  cried,  hotly. 

"  No  worse  than  you,"  responded  Ann,  as  she 
hobbled  out  of  ear-shot. 

I  was  very  silent  all  the  evening,  although 
Jack  came.  He  found  our  Puritan  custom  of  no 
music  Sunday  evenings,  very  trying,  and  told 
me  father's  Sundays  were  his  saddest  days  mere- 
ly because  he  could  not  relieve  the  crowding  of 
his  lonely  thoughts  by  the  music  of  his  violin. 
I  was  greatly  shocked  at  this  expression  of  Jack's 


November.  31 

'feeling ;  yet  he  did  behave  so  devoutly  in  church ! 
At  that  time  I  could  not  understand  how  anyone 
Avho  prayed  in  the  morning,  could  indulge  in  what 
I  heard  an  Evangelist  once  denounce  as  the 
"  damning  distraction  of  music,"  in  the  afternoon. 
What  an  ignorant,  narrow-minded  little  savage 
I  was  !  Oh  dear  me  !  If  my  better  knowledge  in 
some  directions  could  only  have  been  attained 
without  my  bitter  and  unfortunate  elucidation 
along  other  lines! 

That  week  Jack  came  twice  every  day.  He 
tells  me  it  was  very  hard  to  remain  away  in 
the  mornings,  but  he  so  commiserated  Ann  in 
her  hobbling  haste  the  one  occasion  he  dined  with 
us,  that  knowing  father  would  earnestly  urge 
his  stopping  to  dinner  if  he  appeared  before 
Meridian,  he  gloriously  put  himself  out  of  the 
way  of  temptation  and  never  came  to  our  door 
before  two  in  the  afternoon.  The  first  hour  he 
devoted  exclusively  to  father  and  cigars.  The 
second  gradually  became  mine,  for  father  had  to 
have  his  nap,  although  never  admitting  it,  and 
would  doze  surreptitiously  in  his  chair  from  three 
to  four,  while  I  dutifully  darned  socks  or  mended 
linen,  or  crocheted  lace  for  pantry-shelves,  to 
the  delightful  accompaniment  of  blithe  conver- 
sation, the  tempo  of  which  was  accentuated  by 
happily  excited" heart-beats.  Jack  leaving  at  four, 
my  heart  subsided  into  wearily  normal  palpi- 


32  Dainty  Devils. 

tation,  and  I  was  lonesome  and  dreamy  and  ab- 
sent-minded till  eight  in  the  evening,  when  the 
interesting  and  unusual  gentleman  again  ap- 
peared. 

Saturday  night  I  was  oddly  nervous  and  dis- 
satisfied with  myself.  Mr.  Woodward  would 
leave  at  ten,  and  if  he  stayed  away  in  the  after- 
noon, as  he  had  done  the  previous  Sunday,  ex- 
cept for  church  in  the  morning  I  should  not  see 
him  again  till — after — I — had — had — Rube — to 
— tea. 

Our  Sunday  dinner  was  barely  eaten,  however, 
when  I  heard  a  step  upon  the  porch  which  was 
not  Rube's.  Joy,  consternation,  defianceand  fright 
struggled  within  me.  While  father  went  to 
welcome  Mr.  Woodward,  I  retired  pell-mell  to 
my  room.  Sitting  down  upon  the  edge  of  the 
bed  I  swung  my  feet  violently,  the  performance 
being  proof  positive  that  I  was  fiercely  excited. 

Rube  would  come — Sunday  afternoon — To  re- 
main for  tea.  Did  Mr.  Woodward  understand 
Graytown  etiquette?  Would  he  believe  me  en- 
gaged to  that  miserable  idiot  of  an  undertaker's 
son?  My  face  flamed  at  the  thought. 

"  Miss  Dot,  Miss  Dot,  come  down  and  see  Mr. 
Woodward." 

"  I'll  be  down  later,"  I  called  back. 

I  went  at  once. 

Mr.  Woodward  asked  hastily  if  I  were  well. 


November.  33 

"  Awfully,"  I  answered,  annoyed  at  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  you  look  so  feverish,"  he 
said,  anxiously,  and  waited  a  moment  as  though 
expecting  some  explanation  for  my  want  of  re- 
pose. As  I  merely  rubbed  my  hands  nervously 
together  and  said  nothing,  Jack  continued  rather 
like  one  wishing  to  change  the  subject  with  a 
fretful  child :  "  See  what  I  have  brought  you, 
Miss  von  Waldeck.  They  came  last  night." 

He  pointed  to  the  table  where  stood  a  beautiful 
edition  of  Longfellow  in  green-and-gold-and- 
mottled  richness. 

"  Oh !  "  I  cried  in  rapture,  then  I  drew  back ; 
"  I  can't  accept  them  from  a  gentleman.  Can  I, 
father?" 

"  Mr.  von  Waldeck  has  permitted,"  said  Jack, 
smiling  ever  so  slightly.  "  It  is  a  trifle  of  a 
gift — who  knows  how  much  I  may  want  to 
take?" 

Father  started.  I  am  sure  he  thought  of  the 
Stradivarius.  I  did  not.  I  merely  bent  over 
the  books,  my  face  turned  away.  Why  are 
women  so  clever  in  divining  how  much  or  how 
little  men  like  them? 

"  All  I  have,"  said  father,  gravely,  "  is  at  your 
disposal,  Mr.  Woodward." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  returned  Jack.     "  I  hope 

3 


34  Dainty  Devils. 

I'll  never  take  too  unwelcome  advantage  of  your 
courteous  generosity." 

Father  sighed,  still  thinking,  I  am  sure,  of  his 
priceless  violin.  I  turned  to  Mr.  Woodward  to 
express  my^  gratitude  for  the  books,  and  caught 
a  look  upon  his  face  which — well,  it  made  my 
heart  beat  in  my  throat  and  caused  a  wild  re- 
gret that  I  had  invited  Rube  for  that  Sunday 
afternoon.  I  realize  now  that  I  never  thanked 
Jack  at  all  for  those  books.  He  seemed  to 
understand  that  I  was  painfully  excited,  although 
he  did  not  dream  the  reason,  and  in  his 
usual  kind  way  began  to  talk  to  father,  leaving 
me  to  recover  my  mental  equilibrium.  When 
father  said  he  had  some  letters  to  write,  and 
went  upstairs,  I  felt  half-glad,  half-sorry.  How- 
ever, I  was  not  left  long  to  the  luxury  of  analyz- 
ing my  emotions.  Father  had  not  reached  his 
room  before  I  saw  Rube  Stevens,  resplendently 
attired,  turn  in  at  our  gate. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Woodward,"  I  gasped,  "  Mr.  Stev- 
ens is  coming  in — And  I  hate  him,"  I  added,  ve- 
hemently. 

Jack  stared  in  astonishment. 

"  Can't  you  get  rid  of  him,  then  ?  "  he  asked, 
curiously. 

People  talk  about  drowning  men  seeing  all 
their  lives  in  one  horrible  mental  panorama  at 
the  moment  of  sinking.  I  fully  believe  they  do, 


November.  35 

for  while  Rube  made  his  way  to  the  front  door, 
I  laid  a  whole  scheme  of  fibs  to  make  him  go 
away. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  gulping.  "  Quick — go  in  here. 
He  mustn't  see  you — " 

I  was  about  to  say,  "  Or  he  won't  believe  me," 
but  I  did  not  dare  tell  Jack  I  meant  to  fib.  I 
interrupted  myself  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  open- 
ing the  door  which  led  to  the  cellar-stairs,  I 
pushed  Mr.  Woodward  on  to  the  small  landing. 
Closing  that  door,  I  flew  to  the  front  one. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Stevens,"  I  said.  "  I'm 
sorry  that  I'm  feeling  so  miserable  with  a  head- 
ache, that  I  shan't  be  able  to  entertain  you." 

"  Ah,  to  look  at  you  is  enough,  Miss  Dot," 
entering  unabashed.  The  day  was  very  warm 
for  April,  and  having  hung  up  his  hat,  Rube 
drew  out  a  silk  handkerchief  almost  dripping 
with  Stephanotis,  and  gently  wiped  his  forehead, 
smiling  at  me  the  while.  I  recoiled  before  both 
smile  and  perfumery. 

"  Really,"  I  said,  "  cologne  is  extremely  re- 
pugnant to  me." 

"  Is  it,  now  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  in  consternation. 
"  But  we'll  fix  that,  Miss  Dot,"  he  added,  with  a 
reassuring  smile. 

He  went  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  dropped 
the  offending  handkerchief  upon  the  porch.  His 
simplicity  was  fascinating.  Evidently  unless  I 


36  Dainty  Devils. 

asked  him  point-blank  to  go,  there  was  no  escape 
from  Rube.  I  led  the  way  to  the  study, 
wretched  now  in  the  thought  that  Mr.  Woodward 
might  think  I  had  stooped  to  a  trick  because 
I  was  over-anxious  to  be  in  his  society.  What 
harm  would  it  have  been,  after  all,  had  Rube 
been  caught  paying  his  compliments  to  me?  I 
flushed  deeper  and  deeper  and  said  nothing,  leav- 
ing the  making  of  small  talk  to  my  visitor.  Fib- 
bing always  brings  uncomfortableness  of  some 
sort  or  another,  and  if  not  in  this  world,  undoubt- 
edly in  the  next,  when  we  and  our  fibs  are  bound 
to  come  face-to-face.  Dreadful  thought !  And 
still,  perhaps  the  horrible  astonishment  will  be 
consolingly  universal. 

"  Ah,  you  really  look  ill,  Miss  Dot,"  said  Rube, 
anxiously,  establishing  himself,  uninvited,  I 
noted,  in  father's  big  chair.  I  sat  opposite,  rock- 
ing vigorously. 

"  Yes  ;  perhaps,  I'm  getting  scarlet  fever.  Are 
you  not  afraid  of  infection  ?  " 

And  then !  Oh  !  Shall  I  ever  be  able  to  recall 
that  scene  without  hot  tears  of  mortification  rush- 
ing into  my  eyes?  There  was  a  smothered  roar 
of  laughter  from  the  landing  of  the  cellar-stairs, 
at  which  Rube  sprang  out  of  his  chair  and  I  sank 
deeper  into  mine.  Nor  was  the  laughter  all. 
Jack,  big,  heavy  creature  that  he  is,  had  knocked 
over  the  rack  that  held  a  cane  for  Lame  Ann's 


November.  37 

assistance  in  going  down  into  the  cellar,  and  the 
stick  went  bumpety-bump  from  the  top  to  the 
bottom  of  the  stairs. 

"  Oh,  goodness  gracious,  what  is  it  ?  "  asked 
Rube,  visibly  frightened.  You  see  he  had  not 
been  in  the  undertaking  business  very  long. 

Dear  Jack !  He  was  at  the  rescue,  and  patched 
up  my  blunder  so  far  as  anyone  could.  Flinging 
open  the  door,  he  came  into  the  study,  very  red, 
very  dusty  and  very  determined. 

"  There  certainly  are  rats  in  your  cellar,  Miss 
von  Waldeck,"  he  said,  his  eyes  dancing.  "  Why, 
Mr.  Stevens,  how  do  you  do  ?  " 

"  Very  well,"  eagerly ;  "  but  say,  I've  got  a 
fox-terrier — a  dandy.  Shan't  I  go  get  him  right 
off?" 

"  Oh,  will  you  ?  "  said  Jack,  enthusiastically. 
"  It  would  be  immense." 

Rube  paused,  suddenly  doubtful. 

"  How  about  the  parson  ?    It's  Sunday." 

"  Uncle  Dalton  would  never  object,"  I  man- 
aged to  say.  Then  I  was  sorry.  It  looked  as  if 
I  wanted  to  be  alone  with  Jack.  Which  is  not 
nice  in  a  girl — to  show. 

Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  Rube  departed  in 
all  seriousness  for  his  dog,  waving  me  an  airy 
farewell  and  giving  a  parting  assurance  that  his 
terrier  was  "  game."  The  door  safely  closed 
upon  him,  Jack  again  burst  out  laughing.  I 


38  Dainty  Devils. 

dropped  into  my  chair  and  joined  him.  For  sev- 
eral seconds  we  simply  looked  at  each  other  and 
laughed  like  two  lunatics.  Jack's  mirth  ceased 
suddenly,  so  suddenly  that  I  started  to  find  I  was 
laughing  alone.  Instantly  I  grew  serious,  too, 
as  though  some  one  had  peremptorily  said  to  me, 
"Be  quiet!" 

"  Gretchen !  "  said  Jack  after  a  tiny  pause  of 
death-like  silence. 

I  jumped.  My  name  to  him  was  Miss  von 
Waldeck. 

"  Yes,  Gretchen,"  he  repeated,  sternly  em- 
phatic. "  That  boy  wants  to  marry  you.  So 
do  I.  Which  one  is  it  to  be  ?  " 

I  stared,  open-mouthed,  began  to  stammer,  to 
blush,  and  finally  went  to  pieces. 

"  Oh,  don't,"  I  begged,  beginning  to  cry. 

"  You  musn't  cry,  little  one,"  Jack  said. 
"  Rube  will  be  back  directly  with  the  dog,  you 
know." 

Was  there  ever  such  a  proposal  before?  Jack 
stood  some  three  feet  away  from  me  and  I 
crouched  sobbing  in  the  rocking-chair. 

Jack  came  and  laid  his  hand  upon  my  shoul- 
der. 

"  You  are  over-excited,"  he  said,  gently ;  "  I 
should  not  have  asked  you  the  great  question 
now.  It  was  following  an  unreasoning  impulse. 
Anyway,"  whimsically,  "  your  father  is  a  Ger- 


November.  39 

man  and  would  like  to  be  consulted  first.  Rube 
and  his  dog  are  my  excuse  for  being  so  precipi- 
tate." 

The  picture  of  Rube  and  his  dog,  so  unfortun- 
ately real  and  tangible,  and  the  rats  which  existed 
only  in  imagination,  here  overcame  me.  From 
tears  I  passed  back  to  uncontrollable  laughter, 
much  to  Jack's  amazement. 

The  yelping  of  a  racing  dog  broke  in  upon  us. 
My  merriment  subsided  in  a  shiver  of  disgust. 
I  stood  up. 

"  I  shall  not  marry  Rube,  Mr.  Woodward,"  I 
said,  very  faintly,  my  eyes  upon  the  floor. 

"  And  I  gave  you  only  one  alternative,"  he 
said,  his  voice  ringing. 

"   Yelp!    Yelp!    Yelp!    " 

To  that  music  Jack  kissed  my  forehead. 

Did  we  go  through  the  mockery  of  a  rat  hunt? 
Hilariously  so  far  as  Jack  and  I  and  the  dog 
were  concerned ;  in  chagrin  and  perspiration  upon 
the  part  of  Rube.  At  last  Jack  took  compassion 
upon  the  panting  disappointed  boy  and  the  pant- 
ing snapping  terrier. 

"  It's  almost  tea-time,  and  I  must  see  Mr.  von 
Waldeck.  The  rat  is  not  here,  so  let's  quit." 

At  that  very  instant  the  dog  made  a  mad  rush 
and  we  heard  the  squealing  of  a  rat  the  next 
second. 

"  Jehosaphat ! "    screamed   Rube,    in    ecstasy ; 


4O  Dainty  Devils. 

"  didn't  I  tell  you  he  was  game,  Mr.  Wood- 
ward?" 

"  Fine  little  beast,"  said  Jack,  heartily. 
"  You'll  stop  to  tea,  won't  you,  Stevens  ?  I'll  be 
here,  too." 

Rube  ceased  dancing  about  the  cellar  and  stood 
stock-still.  An  ugly,  unhuman  expression  set- 
tled upon  his  heavy  lips. 

"  Have  you  got  a  mortgage  here?  "  he  asked, 
in  his  common  way. 

I  sprang  impulsively  from  my  seat  on  an  over- 
turned barrel,  tearing  my  gown  upon  a  wicked 
nail  as  I  did  so.  Jack  was  ahead  of  me. 

"  If  Mr.  von  Waldeck  makes  no  objection, 
Miss  von  Waldeck  and  I  are  engaged,"  he  said, 
pausing  half  way  up  the  cellar-stairs. 

Rube  gasped,  struck  mute  and  motionless. 

Jack  passed  from  sight  at  the  landing;  I 
trembled  a  little  when  I  remembered  that  it  was 
"  to  see  father  "  he  had  gone.  How  awfully  sol- 
emn and  eternal  the  word  "  engaged  "  sounded ! 
As  for  marriage — my  heart  jumped  into  my 
mouth.  It  meant  leaving  father ! 

"  Why  don't  you  congratulate  me  ?  "  I  asked, 
Rube's  awkward  presence  compelling  some  recog- 
nition. 

Rube  whistled  to  his  dog. 

"  I  wanted  you  myself,"  he  said,  sullenly,  start- 
ing to  leave  the  cellar.  What  a  stunning  place 


November.  41 

for  the  announcement  of  an  engagement !  Gret- 
chen  von  Waldeck  was  certainly  born  for  royal 
surroundings. 

I  ran  up  the  ladder  we  called  stairs ;  the  dog 
scrambled  behind  me,  Rube  followed  slowly,  his 
head  down. 

He  went  straight  for  his  hat. 

"  Won't  you  stop  for  tea  ?  "  I  asked,  politely, 
because  I  knew  now  that  he  would  not. 

"  No,  thank  you.  Come,  Billy  !  Good-even- 
ing." 

Yelp!  Yelp!  The  dog  was  racing  home- 
ward. 

Father  came  down  the  stairs,  wet-eyed  and  sol- 
emn, although  smiling. 

"  Gott  segne  Euch!"  was  all  he  said,  putting 
my  hand  into  Jack's. 

At  tea  there  was  a  bottle  of  old  wine  opened 
and  drunk  standing,  Lame  Ann  being  informed 
that  she  must  drink  her  glassful  to  the  happiness 
of  Miss  Dot  and  Mr.  Woodward.  She  partici- 
pated in  the  little  ceremony  emotionally,  if  not 
gracefully,  and  limped  from  me  to  Jack,  to  touch 
glasses  and  say,  "  Prosit !  " 

The  meal  was  no  sooner  finished  than  father 
went  to  his  room  upstairs.  I  know  now  that  he 
spent  that  evening  with  my  mother;  at  the  time 
I  thought  only  of  Jack  and  myself. 


42  Dainty  Devils. 

When  Jack  left  Graytown  we  went  together, 
bride  and  groom.  It  was  the  fifteenth  of  June. 
Jack  has  no  very  near  relatives,  and  as  our  wed- 
ding was  very  quiet,  he  only  sent  announce- 
ments to  his  twelve  or  fourteen  cousins  of  differ- 
ent degrees.  We  sailed  without  having  met  any 
of  his  relatives,  as  they  were  not  in  New  York 
at  that  time  of  the  year. 

I  never  knew  what  I  missed! 

That  js  what  a  girl  said  the  third  day  out  on 
the  steamer  to  Italy.  She  had  been  sea-sick  till 
then,  and  as  she  finished  her  first  meal  at  the  table 
she  sighed  with  heart-breaking  pathos,  "  you 
never  knew  what  you  missed !  "  The  remainder 
of  the  voyage  she  brought  to  every  meal  a  huge 
black-bound  book  labeled  in  gold  lettering,  "  My 
Trip  Abroad."  Into  this  book  she  faithfully  cop- 
ied every  menu,  not  even  using  ditto  marks  for 
the  repeats.  It  took  all  my  power  of  self-con- 
trol as  well  as  my  dignity  as  a  matron,  to  refrain 
from  asking  her,  "  Will  you  tell  them  that  you 
ate  it  all?" 

The  same  girl  after  having  been  ashore  at 
Gibraltar  announced  at  dinner  while  various  pas- 
sengers were  elaborating  upon  the  beauties  of 
the  town  and  fortress,  that  the  most  interesting 
feature  to  her  was  the  pork-market! 

I  used  to  be  awfully  happy !  I  do  not  mean 
that  I  am  unhappy  now,  because  I  never  could 


November.  43 

be,  so  long  as  I  had  dear  Jack.  But  since  the 
moment  my  foot  touched  the  pier  in  New  York, 
somehow  my  utterly  free-from-care  condition — 
quite  barbarian  in  its  perfection — has  not  existed. 

I  feel  suppressed  by  iron  vices  of  convention- 
ality, I  am  nervous  at  the  thought  of  my  pathetic 
ignorance  of  this  social  world,  and  frightened  at 
the  crucible  I  am  sure  the  women  in  it  will  put 
me  through  before  I  learn  their  pace.  I  suppose 
the  instantaneousness  of  the  change  in  my  mental 
attitude  is  rather  a  compliment  to  the  feminine 
personalities  who  so  subtly  and  successfully 
brought  it  about.  I  do  not  believe  that  any  man 
living  could  be  so  quick,  so  quiet,  and  so  effec- 
tive in  crushing  out  the  heart  of  a  fellow-being, 
as  are  some  society-women.  If  man  be  "  little 
lower  than  the  angels,"  such  women  are  a  little 
higher — a  very  little — than  the  devil. 

Jack  is  a  perfect  darling.  I  am  nevertheless 
exceedingly  thankful  that  he  has  no  near  rela- 
tives. Although,  considering  the  matter,  I  do 
not  believe  that  any  one  more  closely  related 
to  Jack  could  be  like  his  cousins — at  least,  like 
the  two  who  met  us  at  the  pier.  They  greeted 
Jack  effusively  and  kissed  him — the  imperti- 
nence !  And  they  are  both  very  pretty  and  grace- 
ful and  wear  exquisite  frocks.  Thanks  to  the  pa- 
tience and  tact  of  dear  old  Jack,  in  these  five 
months  I  have  learned  how  to  buy  clothes,  and 


44  Dainty  Devils. 

I  know  now  how  women  ought  to  be  gowned. 
These  creatures  are  dainty  to  the  highest  degree. 

As  for  their  looks  in  detail,  they  have  noth- 
ing in  common,  despite  as  I  learned  later,  the 
fact  that  they  are  twins.  Mrs.  Allison  has  a 
slim  dark  face,  straight  features  and  very  dark 
eyes  under  black  lashes.  Jack  told  me  after- 
ward that  when  Lou's  face  grows  a  trifle  slimmer, 
she  will  have  prominent  cheek  bones  and  a  sharp, 
ugly  chin.  "  Hatchet-face,"  he  added,  "  the  kind 
that  in  olden  times  penance  and  self-denial  trans- 
formed into  the  countenances  of  saints,  and 
which  modern  "self-indulgence  and  skepticism 
convert  into  repellent  angles.  After  all,  '  hatchet- 
face  '  is  hardly  a  fair  description.  Such  faces 
in  later  life  combine  the  ugliness  of  a  hatchet  with 
the  sharpness  of  a  sword." 

In  spite  of  Jack's  prognostications,  she  is  ex- 
tremely good-looking  now,  and  the  deep  secretive 
expression  of  her  eyes  holds  one  tantalized  as 
to  its  meaning.  Are  such  eyes  beautiful  for  good 
or  evil?  I  had  a  strange,  recurring  vision  of 
Spoleto  and  Lucrezia  Borgia,  as  I  yielded  to  their 
fascination. 

Her  sister  is  much  shorter  in  figure,  and  alarm- 
ingly thin,  save  her  face,  which  is  well-rounded 
and  small-chinned.  Her  hair  is  blonde,  very 
fluffy,  in  sharp  contrast  to  Mrs.  Allison's  smooth 
black  locks.  She  has  dark  sleepy-looking  eyes, 


November.  45 

set  far  apart,  as  though  her  short  broad  nose 
had  demanded  more  space  than  was  its  right. 
Nevertheless  Mrs.  St.  John  is  also  decidedly 
pretty.  Her  snub-nose  is  redeemed  by  the  short 
child-like  upper  lip  to  the  full  mouth,  and  her 
teeth  are  faultless.  Such  an  unusual  combina- 
tion of  hair  and  eyes,  accentuated  by  the  most 
bewitching  pink  cheeks,  lends  to  Mrs.  St.  John's 
coloring  extraordinary  charm.  Jack  and  I  have 
held  many  animated  discussions  as  to  whether 
form  or  color  is  more  conducive  to  beauty.  Jack 
holds  to  the  classic  marble,  the  idealization  of 
form.  It  would  be  the  vastest  kind  of  affectation 
if  I  pretended  to  agree  with  him.  The  beauty 
of  statuary  is  for  me"  the  beauty  of  death ;  while 
the  color  of  painting  is  vital.  It  appeals,  it  sat- 
isfies, and  if  true  to  nature,  triumphs  over  many 
a  defect  of  line.  To  my  mind,  Belle  St. 
John  is  proof  conclusive  that  coloring  does  more 
for  feminine  beauty  than  perfection  of  feature. 
Leave  every  line  of  her  face  the  same,  give  her 
gray  eyes,  drab  hair,  and  a  sallow  skin,  and  she 
would  be  positively  ugly.  As  a  matter  of  fact  she 
is  beautiful,  because  her  coloring  is  her  salva- 
tion to  such  a  degree  that  one  forgets  the  glaring 
irregularity  of  her  features. 

That  I  was  shabbily  treated,  in  short,  cruelly 
treated,  upon  my  arrival,  does  not.  prevent  my 
acknowledging  that  Mrs.  Allison  and  Mrs.  St. 


46  Dainty  Devils. 

John  are  handsome  enough  to  stand  comparison 
anywhere. 

But  as  we  drove  home,  all  four  of  us,  I  ground 
my  teeth  once  to  keep  from  saying,  as  I  contem- 
plated Jack's  elegant  cousins,  "  You  dainty  dev- 
ils!" 


The  trouble  began  at  the  first  words  which  fol- 
lowed Jack's  introduction  of  his  little  wife,  or 
perhaps  to  be  more  truthful,  a  second  sooner, 
when  Mrs.  Allison — I  will  not  call  her  Cousin 
Lou — kissed  him.  Let  me  confess  that  all  the 
von  Waldecks  are  jealous. 

"  She  is  a  little  bit  of  a  thing,  indeed,"  said 
Mrs.  Allison,  staring  me  over  in  a  business-like 
fashion.  It's  the  way  I  have  seen  Jack  calculate 
the  points  of  a  horse  some  one  wanted  him  to  buy. 

"  Quite  a  child,"  added  Mrs.  St.  John,  delib- 
erately scanning  my  costume  from  the  tip  of 
my  boot  to  the  top  wing  in  my  hat. 

There  was  this  difference  in  the  surveys  of 
the  two  women :  Mrs.  Allison  did  not  move  her 
eyes  as  she  gazed,  while  Mrs.  St.  John  lowered 
her  chin  when  she  stared  at  my  boots,  and  ele- 
vated it  gradually  until  her  face  was  impudently 
tilted  at  that  top  wing  which  indicated  my  stature 
limit,  including  that  portion  attained  by  the  tri- 
umph of  millinery. 


November.  47 

These  remarks,  spoken  as  if  English  were  to 
me  an  unknown  tongue,  took  the  place  of  the 
customary  greeting  accorded  by  new  relatives. 
That  they  considered  me  of  the  same  genus,  but 
of  a  different  species  from  themselves,  was  pain- 
fully evident.  At  the  moment  my  heart  quiv- 
ered with  anger  and  humiliation.  Now  I  feel 
exultantly  glad  that  I  am  unlike  them.  One  day 
in  Graytown,  Jack  said  to  me,  "  If  I  had  never 
met  you,  I  should  have  died  a  bachelor,  because 
I  could  never  take  the  ball-room  product  as  my 
wife." 

On  the  pier,  neither  this  recollection  nor  any 
other  came  to  my  comfort.  I  acknowledge  that 
I  was  supremely  hurt,  frightened  and  angered 
by  the  cool  criticism  with  which  Jack's  cousins 
received  me.  I  was  bitterly  surprised  too,  for 
I  had  never  doubted  that  Jack's  friends  would 
like  me  for  his  sake.  And  while  I  am  undeniably 
small,  no  one  had  ever  before  seemed  to  find 
me  ridiculous.  Utterly  oblivious  of  the  incipient 
battle  that  waged  in  his  immediate  neighborhood, 
my  adorable  and  unsuspecting  husband  immedi- 
ately went  off  to  hurry  the  trunks  through,  leav- 
ing me  at  the  mercy  of  these  women  whose  rude- 
ness had  already  made  me  intensely  dislike  them. 
Stupidly  I  stood  before  them,  rigid  with  wounded 
pride. 

"  How  did  you  enjoy  the  voyage?    I  suppose, 


48  Dainty  Devils. 

being  your  first  experience,  that  you  were  very 
sea-sick  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least ;  nor  was  it  my  first  exper- 
ience. I  had  to  go  to  Europe  before  I  could  come 
back." 

"  Oh,  now,  that  is  funny !  But  you  don't  look 
as  though  you  were  joking.  I  hope  you're  never 
cross,  because  Cousin  Jack  detests  sharpness  in 
women." 

This  with  a  smile  intended  to  be  playful  was 
from  Mrs.  St.  John. 

I  ignored  the  remark  because  had  I  spoken, 
I  could  not  have  been  polite,  and  I  felt  that  I 
had  already  showed  unbecoming  pique,  which 
these  two  would  attribute  to  my  general  crude- 
ness. 

"  You're  an  orphan,  aren't  you  ?  "  began  Mrs. 
Allison. 

"  No."    I  did  not  explain  further. 

"  Then,"  in  a  duet,  <rhow  odd  that  your  par- 
ents are  not  here  to  meet  you !  "  This  was  ac- 
companied by  a  raising  of  the  eyebrows. 

"  My  mother  is  dead ;  my  father  is  not  in 
good  health." 

"  He's  a  minister,  is  he  not  ?  " 

"  No."  I  felt  a  little  faint.  From  the  odors 
of  the  dock  ? 

"  What—"  Mrs.  St.  John  broke  off.  I  knew 
she  had  started  to  say,  "  What  is  he  ?  "  only  the 


•November.  49 

direct  question  was  a  bit  too  abrupt  and  unwar- 
ranted even  for  her. 

"  You  know,"  said  Mrs.  Allison,  in  a  sweet 
voice,  "  we  felt  it  awfully  that  Jack  didn't  ask 
us  to  the  wedding.  Belle  and  I  hardly  knew 
whether  to  come  to  meet  you  or  not.  Only  we 
are  just  like  Jack's  sisters,  don't  you  know,  and 
have  to  forgive  and  forget." 

How  I  wished  they  had  not ! 

"  Was  that  nice-looking  person  in  black  your 
maid  ?  "  queried  Mrs.  St.  John.  She  had  made 
an  inventory  of  Perkins'  clothes  as  she  had  of 
mine. 

"  Yes."  I  began  to  wonder  if  there  was  a  limit 
to  their  questions.  I  knew  there  was  to  my  en- 
durance. 

"  You  got  her  in  Europe,  of  course  ?  She  looks 
English." 

"  She's  an  American,  and  I  took  her  from  this 
side." 

"  Not  from  home  ?  "  said  both  together. 

"  No." 

"  Are  you  an  only  child  ?  "  Mrs.  St.  John. 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  were  you  educated  ?  "  Mrs.  Allison. 

"  At  home." 

"  Oh !  "  in  unison,  with  exchange  of  glances. 

"  Was  it  love  at  first  sight  ?  "  Mrs.  St.  John. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  "  I  said,  staring. 

5 


5o  Dainty  Devils. 

At  that  instant  I  saw  Jack  making  his  way 
towards  us  among  piles  of  luggage  and  groups 
of  more  or  less  excited  humanity.  Are  the  pangs 
of  conscience  produced  by  the  knowledge  of 
smuggled  articles  reposing  in  divers  nooks  and 
corners,  responsible  for  the  nervousness  among 
first-class  passengers  returning  from  Europe? 
Jack  says  he  declares  everything  and  gets  off 
beautifully  by  paying  the  prescribed  duty.  He 
contends  that  every  honest  citizen  should  do  the 
same.  Granted  even  that  the  laws  are  a  bit 
severe  and  unreasonable,  they  are  still  laws  sanc- 
tioned by  our  Government,  and  no  one  deserves 
to  be  an  American  who  cannot  say  heartily,  in 
small  matters  as  in  great,  "  My  Country !  Right 
or  wrong !  "  Whether  I  loved  Jack  at  first  sight 
or  not,  as  I  saw  him  cheerfully  swinging  towards 
us  across  the  pier,  I  loved  him  a  little  better  than 
ever  before.  He  looked  so  contented  and  unhur- 
ried in  the  midst  of  noisy  confusion,  that  I  felt 
very  secure  of  his  ability  to  protect  me  from 
everything — even  his  cousins. 

"  Everything  is  attended  to,  and  now  we'll  go 
home.  It  was  so  lovely  of  you,  Lou,  to  have 
the  carriage  here.  Wasn't  it,  Dot  ?  " 

I  am  no  stranger  to  fibbing,  but  the  lie  required 
here  would  have  choked  a  greater  adept  than  I. 

"  What  beautiful  horses ! "  I  exclaimed,  as 
the  trap  drew  up. 


November.  51 

Now  I  knew  better,  I  really  did.  I  only  did 
not  wish  to  be  obliged  to  answer  Jack's  question. 
Therefore  when  Mrs.  St.  John  and  Mrs.  Alli- 
son exchanged  smiles,  I  was  dreadfully  angry. 

Jack  put  me  in  first. 

"  You  next,  Lou/'  he  said,  turning  to  Mrs. 
Allison.  "  I  know  you  can't  ride  backwards." 

"  Oh,"  laughed  Mrs.  Allison,  "  I  mustn't  sep- 
arate bride  and  groom.  Don't  you  want  to  sit 
next  to  Mrs.  Woodward  ?  " 

I  blushed  with  temper  and  of  course  Jack 
thought  it  only  pretty  and  becoming  and  natural 
and  all  that,  and  he  said,  very  gravely : 

"  I  can  see  Dot  all  the  better  from  the  front 
seat." 

Mrs.  Allison  had  not  anticipated  quite  that  an- 
swer so  she  looked  rather  blank — not  to  say  fool- 
ish— as  she  sat  down  beside  me. 

It  was  less  than  half  an  hour's  drive  to  the 
house  that  was  to  be  mine,  and  which  I  had 
never  seen.  A  horrible  sense  of  not  having  been 
trained  for  the  part  I  was  perforce  to  assume, 
swept  over  me.  The  two  finished  women  of  the 
world  who  were  with  us,  appeared  like  menacing 
precursors  of  a  society  which  I  felt  was  ready 
to  cut  me  to  pieces.  I  wished  wildly  that  Jack 
and  I  had  been  alone.  It  seemed  not  too  much 
to  ask  that  the  first  sight  I  had  of  my  new 
home  should  be  without  the  company  of  outsiders. 


52  Dainty  Devils. 

Mrs.  Allison  talked  incessantly,  and  half  the  time 
Mrs.  St.  John's  drawl  dragged  along  simultane- 
ously, with  now  and  then  a  word  or  two  in  the 
rear. 

"  What  makes  you  so  quiet,  little  one  ?  "  asked 
Jack,  who  while  watching  me,  had  been  giving 
random  answers  to  his  cousins. 

I  smiled  at  him  for  reply,  and  felt  a  lump  com- 
ing into  my  throat.  Heavens !  Was  I  going  to 
cry? 

"  Are  you  always  so  silent  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  St. 
John,  in  a  voice  as  sweet  and  airy  as  a  meringue 
glacee. 

The  struggle  to  speak  was  once  more  inef- 
fectual, but  happily  the  carriage  stopped.  I 
looked  out  curiously,  and  beheld  a  big  corner 
house  with  an  entrance  imposing  enough  for  a 
European  Art  Gallery,  facing  what  I  knew  must 
be  Central  Park.  I  grew  limp,  mentally  and  phy- 
sically. What  should  I  do  in  that  huge  place  ? 

"  We're  home,  darling,"  whispered  Jack,  as  he 
lifted  me  out. 

Home !  I  had  a  vague  vision  of  the  tiny  cot- 
tage at  Graytown,  its  small  white  front  door, 
its  narrow  porch.  I  am  ashamed  for  Jack's 
sake  to  acknowledge  that  in  those  first  moments 
I  was  poignantly  home-sick  for  that  same  white 
front  door — which,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  had  rather 
disliked  while  I  was  at  home.  Going  up  the 


November.  53 

stone  steps  I  stumbled.  Jack  having  turned  to 
answer  a  question  of  Mrs.  St.  John's,  it  was  a 
man  in  livery  who  hastily  assisted  me.  I  dimly 
wondered  if  he  also  belonged  to  me.  And  I 
longed  desperately  for  Lame  Ann.  Perkins  was 
such  a  strain.  How  lovely  it  would  be  to  hear 
Lame  Ann  say,  "  No,  I  won't,  Miss  Dot !  "  when 
I  particularly  wished  something  done !  Jack  had 
warned  me  that  I  must  not  converse  with  Per- 
kins, and  I  had  faithfully  obeyed.  And  "  No, 
Madam,"  "  Yes,  Madam,"  and  "  If  you  please, 
Madam,"  had  grown  terribly  wearing  and  monot- 
onous. 

Another  man  in  livery  was  holding  the  door 
open;  we  went  through  a  tiled  vestibule  into  the 
hall.  I  saw  a  marble  staircase  carpeted  in  scar- 
let. Farther  back  I  saw  pictures  and  potteries 
and  palms.  The  ceiling  was  very  high,  and 
every  thing  looked  more  like  some  gorgeous  pub- 
lic place  than  a  home  for  two  people  lately  mar- 
ried. Near  the  foot  of  the  stair-case  a  tall,  thin 
person  in  black  stood  awaiting  us.  Jack  shook 
hands  with  her. 

"  Your  mistress  has  come  home,  Mrs.  Black- 
well.  This  is  the  housekeeper,  dear." 

The  woman  bowed  to  me  and  I  gravely  bowed 
back.  I  felt  as  if  I  had  come  to  visit  in  her 
house,  and  was  taking  a  liberty  by  doing  so. 

"  Lou  and  Belle  will  take  you  upstairs,  Dot," 


54  Dainty  Devils. 

said  Jack,  well-meaningly  of  course,  but  hurting 
me  grievously,  "  while  I  talk  over  a  few  matters 
with  Mrs.  Blackwell.  Perkins  will  arrive  with 
the  small  luggage  in  a  few  moments." 

It  was  too  much.  Jack  might  as  well  say  "  To 
the  lions ! "  as  send  me  upstairs  with  Mrs.  St. 
John  and  her  sister.  Two  big  carved  chairs 
stood  one  on  either  side  of  the  table  in  the  hall. 
Into  one  of  them  I  sank  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Why,  Dot !  " 

Jack  forgot  his  cousins  and  the  housekeeper 
and  was  on  his  knees  beside  me. 

"  Oh,  come  with  me,  and  send  them  all  away !  " 
I  said,  in  German,  sobbing  abandonedly. 

It  was  the  housekeeper's  voice  that  pulled  me 
together. 

"  Madam  seems  very  tired,"  she  said,  in  freez- 
ing tones ;  "  I  will  send  Burton  with  some  wine." 

"  Thank  you,  I  don't  wish  any  wine,"  I  said, 
rising.  "  I  will  rest  a  bit,  Jack,  if  your  cousins 
will  pardon  me.  I  am  extremely  tired." 

"  Have  luncheon  served  to  Mrs.  Allison  and 
Mrs.  St.  John.  Madam  will  remain  upstairs. 
You  will  excuse  us,  Lou,  won't  you  ?  "  Jack  was 
as  easy  and  calm  as  usual. 

"  Oh,  we  see  we'll  have  to.  Don't  bother  about 
us,  Jack ;  you  know  we're  quite  at  home.  We'll 
run  in  again  some  time  to-morrow." 

"  Good  morning,"  I  said,  dignifiedly  as  I  could 


November.  55 

with  the  consciousness  of  a  red  nose,  and  gath- 
ering up  my  skirts  in  that  final  way  I  had  already 
learned. 

"  Thank  you  so  much  for  meeting  us,"  Jack 
added,  as  he  picked  me  up  and  carried  me  up- 
stairs. 

He  put  me  down  in  the  most  beautiful  room 
I  had  ever  seen — all  rose  color  and  lace,  and  soft 
white  fur  rugs.  As  he  took  off  my  wrap  and 
hat  and  lifted  me  on  to  the  lovely  couch  near  the 
bay-window,  I  could  answer  his  questioning 
smile,  which  I  knew  meant,  "  Do  you  like  it  ?  " 
only  by  fresh  tears. 

How  seldom  are  we  in  fitting  shape  to  enjoy 
the  delights  of  the  existing  moment !  Upon  my 
arrival  in  my  new  dwelling-place  I  should  have 
been  happily  sensitive  and  responsive  to  the  beau- 
ty of  my  surroundings.  Instead,  I  was  in 
a  perfect  tempest  of  emotions,  and  doubly  irri- 
tated because  I  knew  what  a  satire  my  tears 
were  upon  the  sentiments  which  ought  to  have 
been  mine,  when  I  came  into  the  possession  of 
luxury  of  which  I  had  never  dreamed.  A  little 
of  the  same  feeling  I  experienced  when,  home- 
sick for  father,  I  started  on  that  vast  joy,  a 
trip  to  Europe.  Some  disturbing,  heart-sick- 
ening bitterness  always  mingles  with  the  sweets 
of  life.  I  fancy  it  is  this  universal  alloy  in  our 
happiness  that  heightens  all  joys  in  the  retro- 


56  Dainty  Devils. 

spect.  The  day  I  first  saw  the  Matterhorn,  my 
head  ached  splittingly.  Thinking  of  it  now,  I 
feel  the  glory  and  grandeur  of  the  mountain, 
and  ignore  the  memory  of  my  puny  personal 
discomfort  which  at  the  time  I  fancied  gigantic — 
Actually  in  the  presence  of  the  vast,  magnificent, 
sublime  Matterhorn!  It  is  delightfully  true  that 
in  looking  back  upon  our  pleasures,  our  rare 
and  precious  experiences,  petty  flaws  are  lost  in 
the  general  perfection.  Probably  the  day  will 
come  when  I  shall  remember  my  entry  into  my 
pink-and-white  bower  as  a  moment  of  undiluted 
joy;  at  present  the  two  cousins  are  too  vivid  a 
recollection.  They  were  the  thorns  that  pricked 
deeply  and  caused  me  plentiful  tears. 

I  do  wish  dear  Jack  might  have  been  spared 
the  scene — which  is  no  doubt  wishing  for  the  im- 
possible in  his  regard,  since  imperfect  happiness 
is  the  common  lot.  Clutching  Jack  hysterically, 
I  sobbed  out  something  to  this  effect. 

"  All  sweets  ?  Cloying  sweets  ?  "  he  laughed, 
in  his  deep  clear  voice.  "  Don't  you  know  one 
has  to  bite  into  something  sharp  once  in  a  while, 
to  keep  the  zest  for  sweet  things  ?  " 

Good  as  he  is,  Jack  did  not  mean  this  for 
fault-finding,  so  I  swallowed  the  hurt  which  he 
unconsciously  gave  me  by  admitting  that  I  had 
indeed  given  him  something  "  sharp  to  bite  into." 
After  a  while,  soothed  by  his  presence  and  de- 


November.  57 

sultory  talk,  I  dropped  off  asleep.  When  I 
awoke,  Jack's  hand  was  on  my  forehead. 

"  I  thought  you  were  ill,  dear ;  you  looked  so 
flushed." 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  said,  jumping  up.  "  I  feel  as 
well  as  possible.  And  Jack,  I'm  awfully  green 
and  I  know  it.  But  I  shall  not  act  like  a  baby 
any  more.  What  a  love  of  a  room!  Is  it  all 
real  ?  Oh,  Jack  will  I  ever  get  used  to  it  ?  " 

My  heart  suddenly  sank  again. 

"  At  once,  you're  so  clever — " 

That  part  was  meant  for  me  alone. 


Perkins  was  all  in  a  tremor  dressing  me  for 
dinner  that  first  night,  and  I  sincerely  sympa- 
thized. The  elegance  seemed  to  intoxicate  her. 
For  the  first  time  since  I  left  the  ministrations 
of  Lame  Ann,  my  hair  was  repeatedly  pulled. 
The  climax  was  reached  when  Perkins,  taking 
the  hand-mirror  from  me,  let  it  fall.  She  turned 
deathly  white,  between  a  superstitious  horror  and 
the  thought  of  breaking  anything  so  costly  as 
a  silver-backed  mirror.  The  white  fur  rug  was 
thick  and  the  glass  remained  intact.  So  Per- 
kins' exclamation  died  into  a  meek  apology  for 
clumsiness.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  refrain 
from  telling  her  not  to  mind — that  I  fully  under- 
stood her  emotions. 


58  Dainty  Devils. 

Going  down  stairs  Jack  whispered  that  I 
looked  lovely — how  very  lovely  I  should  like  to 
look  for  his  sake ! — and  he  kissed  me  four  times 
before  we  reached  the  dining-room  and  the  pres- 
ence of  servants.  The  butler  and  the  second- 
man  were  in  the  dining-room,  and  a  parlor-maid 
stationed  in  the  pantry  hovered  visibly  near  the 
shielding  screen.  The  array  of  retainers  at  first 
made  me  nervous.  Two  pairs  of  eyes  being  fixed 
upon  me,  and  a  third  pair  snatching  glimpses 
from  the  ambush  of  the  pantry,  I  had  to  affect 
a  nonchalance  I  did  not  feel.  I  was  dying  to  look 
about.  Everywhere  was  a  great  lot  of  beautiful 
things,  and  I  mentally  resolved  to  come  in  some 
day  when  the  coast  was  clear  of  servants,  and 
investigate  my  belongings.  The  possession  of  but 
few  things  has  its  advantages ;  one  is  lovingly 
acquainted  with  each.  There  is  no  need  of  a 
catalogue  to  find  out  what  one  has — an  obliga- 
tion often  imposed  upon  the  possessor  of  vast 
choses  de  luxe.  It  is  not  unlike  the  child  wanting 
the  whole  cake  and  getting  it,  and  being  after  all 
able  to  eat  but  one  piece. 

Jack's  society,  a  fine  dinner,  and  a  little  cham- 
pagne, so  rapidly  restored  my  spirits  that  I  soon 
forgot  the  servants  with  their  merciless  eyes,  and 
talked  away  in  reckless  unconcern  of  undesira- 
ble listeners.  A  sudden  sharp  cough  from  Jack, 
and  the  lifting  of  his  eyebrows,  brought  me  to 


November.  59 

an  embarrassed  silence.  What  had  I  been  say- 
ing?— That  I  did  not  like  either  of  his  cousins, 
and  Mrs.  St.  John  the  less  of  the  two,  and  where 
were  their  husbands?  They  never  mentioned 
them.  Oh,  it  seemed  that  Mr.  St.  John  was  at 
a  watering-place  in  Germany,  for  rheumatism, 
and  Mr.  Allison  was  in  New  York  and  in  excel- 
lent health.  How  could  Jack  know  that  Mr.  Al- 
lison was  very  well,  having  never  inquired.  Here 
the  eyebrows  went  up.  Oh,  those  servants !  I 
had  recourse  to  German.  Jack  responded  very 
composedly  in  that  tongue,  that  a  foreign  lan- 
guage would  only  be  translated  into  unspeakable 
conjectures,  and  really  I  must  change  the  sub- 
ject of  conversation  as  Lou's  maid  was  our  but- 
ler's sister.-  As  I  never  could  tolerate  spies,  I 
instantly  resolved  that  Burton  should  be  dis- 
charged. I  had  yet  to  learn  of  my  limita- 
tions. 

After  the  restriction  put  upon  our  discourse, 
I  felt  throughout  the  dinner  constrained  and 
rather  provoked.  While  extremely  attentive, 
Jack  grew  ominously  silent,  and  I  knew  he 
wanted  to  prevent  my  talking  if  possible.  By 
the  time  we  had  settled  ourselves  in  his  den,  and 
his  cigar  was  lighted,  I  had  concluded  there 
was  some  good  reason  for  his  reserve  in  the  din- 
ing-room, and  woman-like,  yearned  to  know  what 
it  was. 


6o  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Jack,"  I  said,  earnestly,  "  what  is  the  matter 
with  Mr.  St.  John  ?" 

"  I  told  you,  you  curious  kitten.  He  is  at  a 
cure  for  rheumatism." 

"  That's  what  you  said.  But  the  butler  and 
the  other  man  exchanged  glances  when  you  made 
that  statement,  and  I  saw  the  maid  go  into  the 
pantry  smiling." 

Jack  blew  the  smoke  in  rings.  What  comfort 
men  find  in  smoke ! 

"  How  pretty  you  look  to-night,  dear." 

I  got  up  and  walked  over  to  the  fire-place, 
where  the  gas  logs  were  doing  their  make-believe- 
open-fire-act.  I  was  very  indignant. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Dot?  " 

"  You  know  very  well.  I  don't  care  to  be 
treated  like  a  child." 

Jack  laughed  provokingly. 

"  Then  you  mustn't  act  like  one.  And  above 
all,"  suddenly  in  serious  tone,  "  you  must  not 
let  the  servants'  gossip  or  hints  affect  you.  Re- 
member, little  one." 

"  That  warning  is  not  kind,  Jack." 

Jack  immediately  begged  my  pardon,  saying 
he  did  not  know  what  had  made  him  so  suddenly 
cross.  I  smiled  a  little  for,  if  he  were  in 
need  of  the  information,  I  could  easily  enough 
have  told  him  that  my  question  about  Mr.  St. 


November.  61 

John  had  ruffled  his  natural  composure.  Nor  was 
I  through  with  the  subject. 

Persistency  is  one  of  my  strongest  character- 
istics. When  I  was  a  very  small  child  I  slipped 
off  one  day  with  some  older  children  who  were 
going  swimming.  Some  one  carried  the  news  to 
Lame  Ann,  who  flew  to  my  father  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  I  had  "  Gone  to  be  drowned." 
Father  took  the  information  calmly.  "  Don't 
worry,  Ann.  The  child  will  swim."  And  so 
I  did,  after  many  trials.  I  was  the  last  one 
home,  still  I  had  succeeded  in  what  I  had  at- 
tempted, and  until  then  I  would  not  leave.  Pos- 
sessed of  the  same  spirit,  as  soon  as  Jack  was 
decently  amiable  I  went  back  to  Mr.  St.  John. 

"  Has  he  anything  besides  rheumatism,  Jack  ?" 

And  Jack  the  imperturbable,  answered  : 

"  Not  that  I  know  of." 

So  for  the  time  being,  I  gave  up.  It  was  one 
of  the  times  that  I  failed  to  swim. 


The  first  morning  at  home  began  very  brightly 
but  clouded  over  somewhat  when  Jack  announced 
that  he  must  go  down  to  the  "  Street."  I  had 
been  so  used  to  having  Jack  always  with  me, 
that  I  pouted  very  much  at  the  "  Street,"  and 
Jack  left  me  with  a  rather  severe,  "  It's  upon 
business,  little  one.  Good-bye." 


62  Dainty  Devils. 

Feeling  very  lonesome  I  went  into  the  library 
to  write  to  father.  I  had  not  finished  the  first 
page  before  the  housekeeper  knocked  at  the  door. 
She  came  to  ask  if  I  had  any  orders  about  the 
meals.  I  said  not  at  present.  She  could  do  as 
usual.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  be  rid  of  her.  I 
had  intended  to  tell  her  that  the  butler  was  to  be 
discharged,  but  I  could  not  muster  the  courage. 
Indeed,!  have  an  unpleasant  idea  that  the  woman's 
inscrutable  countenance  might  be  interpreted 
"  Unconditional  Surrender  "  for  her  enemies,  and 
at  present  I  do  not  feel  like  evoking  any  more 
foes  than  absolute  necessity  demands — particu- 
larly in  this  case  where  I  never  in  propriety  could 
surrender. 

Besides,  Burton  might  not  smile  again — I  mean 
out  of  season. 

I  wrote  on  industriously,  and  knowing  that 
there  were  a  great  many  servants  in  the  house,  I 
paid  no  attention  to  bells  or  footsteps  or  anything 
of  the  sort.  Therefore  it  was  startling  to  say 
the  least  when  the  library-door  opened  and  I 
heard  my  name — not  "  Dot,"  but  "  Gretchen," 
and  only  one  in  all  the  world  calls  me  that.  Of 
course  it  was  father. 

The  joy  of  that  meeting,  the  delight  of  tell- 
ing him  all  about  our  trip — everything,  even  the 
girl  who  copied  the  menus  • — the  emotion  at  the 
sight  of  his  emotion  when  I  related  the  particu- 


November.  63 

lars  of  our  visit  to  his  cousin,  the  Baron  von 
Holtz,  are  not  to  be  described  in  ordinary  Eng- 
lish. The  twenty-four  hours  dear  father  stayed 
were  like  a  happy  dream.  And  his  words  at  part- 
ing were  a  prophecy — 

"  You  have  much,  Gretchen.     Probably  more 

than  any  lady  of  your  line  ever  had  before.    Still, 

do  not  expect  to  find  no  thorns.     There  will  be 

many,  and  you  will  need  courage  and  tact.    Never 

,  forget,  mein  Mddchen,  who  you  are." 

Father  kissed  me  on  the  forehead  a  great  many 
times,  murmured  a  prayer  in  German — when 
pious,  or  extraordinarily  tender  or  poetical,  he 
always  uses  German — and  entered  the  car  as 
the  train  started. 

Although  Jack  was  with  me,  I  cried.  I  won- 
der if  I  should  have  loved  father  less  frantically 
had  I  had  a  mother? 

Jack  went  from  the  station  to  Wall  Street  and 
I  drove  home  alone.  Pensive  and  quiet,  deli- 
ciously  sad,  I  entered  the  house.  It  would  be 
very  agreeable  indeed  to  go  upstairs  to  that  lovely 
room  and  rest  till  Jack  came  home.  The  unac- 
customed luxury  of  my  new  life  is  creating  all 
kinds  of  new  requirements.  In  Graytown  I  never 
needed  rest  beyond  my  sleep  at  night,  while  here 
I  find  that  a  certain  amount  of  mooning  is  nec- 
essary for  the  maintenance  of  mental  poise.  It 
was  with  the  most  self-indulgent  resolution  of 


64  Dainty  Devils. 

doing  nothing,  that  I  reflected  we  had  lunched 
early,  on  account  of  father's  leaving,  and  I  should 
have  a  long  indolent  afternoon  to  dream  in  be- 
fore five  o'clock. 

Should  I? 

The  cyclone  struck  me  just  within  the  door. 
It  was  dual,  and  rustled  of  silk.  It  was  lowering 
and  indignant  although  forcing  some  make-be- 
lieve smiles. 

"  Why  Dot !  "—who  told  Mrs.  Allison  to  call 
me  Dot  ? — "  How  could  you  be  so  mean  ?  Here 
the  Times  says  Count  von  Waldeck  has  been 
visiting  his  daughter,  Mrs.  J.  Worthington 
Woodward,  lately  returned  from  Europe,  and 
you  never  sent  us  any  word.  We  simply  flew 
here,  and  are  too  late  after  all." 

"  I  don't  think  you  were  a  bit  nice,"  drawled 
Mrs.  St.  John ;  "  and  who  ever  would  have 
thought  you  were  a  count's  daughter !  " 

I  took  a  sudden  resolution.  I  would  not  be 
rude  to  these  women  to-day.  I  would  be  over- 
whelmingly sweet,  and  myself  take  the  initiative 
in  questioning.  I  wondered  why  I  had  been  such 
a  simpleton  the  day  we  arrived.  The  situation 
seemed  such  a  simple  one  now. 

"  Father  was  here  to  welcome  me  back,"  I 
said,  angelically.  "  Crosson,"  to  the  man  who 
still  stood  in  the  hall,  "  send  Perkins  for  my 
.wraps.  Come  into  the  library,  cousins." 


November.  65 

"  But  it's  half-after-one,  and  we  haven't 
lunched.  Burton  said  he  didn't  know  what  time 
you'd  be  back." 

Botheration !  I  should  have  to  feed  these 
women  before  I  could  torment  them ! 

"  Crosson,"  I  added,  the  effort  at  self-control 
causing  me  to  exceed  Belle  St.  John's  drawl, 
"  tell  Burton  to  serve  luncheon  for  two." 

"  Three,"  corrected  Lou  Allison. 

"  Two,"  I  repeated  severely,  as  the  man  hesi- 
tated. 

"  Who  is  to  fast  ?"  asked  Belle  St.  John. 

"  I  lunched  before  I  went  out." 

We  went  to  the  library — where  Perkins  imme- 
diately appeared.  As  she  left  the  room,  Belle 
St.  John  spoke,  soon  enough  for  Perkins  to  catch 
the  words. 

"  It  doesn't  seem  to  disconcert  you  to  have 
so  many  servants  about.  I  fancied  people  had 
to  get  used  to  it." 

"  How  many  have  you  ?  "  I  asked,  coolly. 

"  Oh,  I  board  with  Lou.  I'm  a  poor  relation 
and  Lou  is  not  very  wealthy." 

I  scanned  the  clothes  the  woman  had  on  and 
the  diamonds  upon  her  thin  fingers.  She  is  ap- 
pallingly thin,  even  much  thinner  than  I  at  first 
thought;  still,  without  any  possible  shape,  she 
contrives  to  be  stunningly  stylish.  I  believe  Dr. 

5 


66  Dainty  Devils. 

Holmes  meant  Elsie  Vernier  to  have  that  kind 
of  a  figure — snaky  and  writhing  and  fascinatingly 
graceful.  What  a  clumsy  dumpling  am  I  beside 
Belle  St.  John! 

"  People's  ideas  of  poverty  must  vary  greatly," 
I  said. 

"  Mine  is  abject,  I  assure  you,"  asserted  Belle. 
"  You  see,  my  dear  little  girl,  Lou  and  I  were 
brought  up  in  this  house  by  Jack's  mother,  who 
was  our  father's  sister.  Jack  is  exactly  the  same 
as  a  brother  to  us,  and  if  Jack  didn't  pay  for  my 
gowns,  I'd  have  to  wear  Japanese  paper.  Now, 
when  the  servants  repeat  these  interesting  facts 
to  you,  you  won't  be  shocked — although  I  see  you 
are  at  present." 

I  would  not  give  in.  That  woman  lying  back 
in  her  chair  with  her  eyes  half-closed  should  not 
get  the  better  of  me.  In  spite  of  these  resolutions 
my  heart  thumped  with  temper  as  I  put  the  next 
question. 

"  Why  doesn't  your  husband  buy  your 
gowns  ?  " 

Belle  St.  John  started  up  into  a  straight,  alert 
position. 

"  Who  told  you  anything  about  my  husband  ?  " 
she  asked,  sharply,  her  drowsy  eyes  suddenly 
turned  into  flames. 

"  You  are  called  Mrs.  St.  John,  and  Jack  had 
not  mentioned  that  your  husband  was  dead." 


November.  67 

"  He's  not  dead,"  said  the  woman,  excitedly ; 
"  I  wish  he  were." 

"  Oh,  Belle !  "  interrupted  her  sister.  "  How 
can  you?  You  have  made  Dot  deathly  pale. 
Belle  and  her  husband  didn't  live  very  happily, 
Dot,  like  lots  of  us,  and  he  is  at  Wiesbaden  for 
rheumatism." 

The  butler  coughed  at  the  door.  We  all  three 
jumped. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  there,  Burton?  "  I 
asked,  impulsively.  Oh,  yes,  I  have  a  great  deal 
to  learn.  I  am  less  than  six  months  from  Gray- 
town. 

"  Just  this  minute,  Madam.  Luncheon  is 
served." 

Belle  did  not  speak  at  the  table.  She  had 
two  hot  spots  on  her  cheeks,  and  kept  Burton  fill- 
ing her  glass  with  sherry,  which  somehow  acted 
like  rouge  upon  her  face.  Conversing  with  Lou 
Allison  about  Rome,  I  nervously  watched  Belle 
growing  redder  and  redder.  Lou  seemed  to 
know  all  the  Italian  nobility  and  was  plainly  dis- 
gusted that  Jack  had  not  taken  me  to  call  upon 
them.  I  told  her  we  had  made  no  visits  except 
one,  at  my  father's  cousin's. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  she  inquired,  eagerly. 

"  Baron  von  Holtz." 

"  Oh,  you  really  are  of  noble  blood,  aren't  you? 
Jack  never  breathed  it  to  us,  and  we'd  no  idea 


68  Dainty  Devils. 

of  it.  That  article  in  the  Times  quite  startled 
us.  But  how  awful  that  your  father  had  to  be 
a  music-teacher!  They  are  such  queer  people, 
generally,  with  long  hair,  don't  you  know." 

"  Father  is  quite  bald.  And  teaching  has  not 
changed  his  blood." 

"  Nor  yours,"  laughed  Lou  Allison.  "  You're 
a  spunky  little  thing." 

My  visitors  departed  immediately  luncheon  was 
over,  leaving  me  oddly  weary  and  listless,  also 
doubtful  of  the  compliment  of  having  people 
come  only  for  luncheon.  Besides,  to  my  unso- 
phisticated mind,  Belle  St.  John  had  had  a  great 
deal  too  much  sherry,  and  I  felt  responsible. 

It  was  almost  five,  o'clock  when  a  card  came 
up  to  me.  Mr.  Arnold  Whitney  Allison — 'Lou's 
husband,  undoubtedly.  Quite  nervous  through 
curiosity,  I  went  downstairs  to  meet  this  stranger. 

Mr.  Allison  had  been  shown  into  the  large 
drawing-room.  He  was  standing  as  I  entered, 
and  instantly  came  forward.  I  do  not  know  why 
I  was  so  astonished  at  his  appearance,  as  I  had 
no  possible  reason  for  having  any  preconceived 
idea  of  him,  except  that  he  seemed  so  totally  out 
of  keeping  .with  his  wife.  He  was  at  least  six 
inches  shorter  and  three  or  four  years  younger 
than  she.  As  for  his  manner,  it  was  reserved, 
even  diffident,  and  decidedly  that  of  a  gentle- 
man. His  face  was  pale,  plain,  very  square- 


November.  69 

jawed,  and  clean-shaven.  Altogether  he  might 
have  been  very  appropriately  a  clergyman — the 
kind  that  all  the  young  girls  of  the  parish  would 
not  fall  in  love  with  because  he  was  handsome. 
Good  looks  and  the  Litany  are  a  fatally  touching 
combination. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  were  at  home,  Mrs.  Wood- 
ward," he  said,  sincerely,  "  because  it's  so  much 
nicer  meeting  this  way  for  the  first  time  instead 
of  at  the  dinner." 

"The  dinner?"  I  echoed,  "I'm  delighted  to 
see  you,  but  I  haven't  been  asked  to  any  dinner  as 
yet." 

"  Then  I've  given  away  a  secret.  Mr.  Wood- 
ward must  have  been  planning  a  surprise  for  you. 
Whether  you  know  it  or  not,  you've  cards  out 
for  a  dinner  on  the  twentieth." 

We  both  laughed ;  I  felt  quite  at  ease  and  im- 
mediately liked  Mr.  Allison. 

He  talked  well  upon  lots  of  subjects,  in  a 
quiet,  attention-compelling  way,  and  I  found  out 
that  he  played  the  violin  "Just  a  little."  Now 
father  says  that  such  people  usually  play  excep- 
tionally well.  So  I  asked  him  to  bring  his  vio- 
lin next  time.  That  made  him  laugh  most  heart- 
ily indeed.  He  said  he  would  think  about  it. 

I  was  sorry  when  he  left.  In  fact  I  asked 
him  not  to  go,  at  which  he  looked  a  trifle  sur- 
prised, and  explained  rather  elaborately  that  he 


70  Dainty  Devils. 

had  another  call  upon  his  conscience  which  must 
be  made  before  dinner.  I  judge  it  would  have 
been  more  elegant  not  to  have  requested  him  to 
remain  longer.  But  it  had  been  so  delightful  to 
converse  with  some  one  who  was  not  criticising 
me.  Jack  will  have  to  coach  me  considerably 
before  it  will  be  safe  to  leave  me  alone  in  the 
intricacies  of  society's  etiquette.  Thus  far  the 
code  seems  to  be  "  Say  all  that  you  do  not  mean 
— Nothing  that  you  do."  I  felt  so  shy  and  em- 
barrassed at  the  thought  that  I  had  made  a  mis- 
take in  Mr.  Allison's  case,  that  I  forgot,  as  we 
said  good-bye,  to  remind  him  to  bring  his  violin 
the  next  time. 

Jack  came  home  earlier  than  I  expected.  As 
soon  as  his  first  burst  of  petting  me  was  over 
I  began  to  tell  him  of  all  his  two  cousins  had 
said  and  done,  as  well  as  how  very  nice  Mr.  Alli- 
son was,  and  how  I  could  not  comprehend  why 
he  ever  married  Lou. 

"  Why,  my  darling,"  exclaimed  Jack,  who  per- 
sists in  believing  I  am  an  angel  and  is  therefore 
proportionately  shocked  each  time  I  prove  I  am 
not,  "  how  cruel  your  small  tongue  is  getting !  " 

"  Now,  -Jack,  I  want  to  hear  the  whole  story. 
How  long  did  they  live  here,  and  when  did  they 
go,  and  what  is  the  matter  with  Mr.  St.  John?" 

Jack  pulled  his  moustache  and  looked  gravely 
at  me  as  I  sat  upon  his  knee. 


November.  71 

"  You  won't  sleep  well  if  I  don't  tell  you,  I 
suppose  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  tinge  of  naughty 
sarcasm. 

"  No,  I  shan't  sleep  at  all,"  I  returned,  defi- 
antly. 

"  Well,  Lou  and  Belle  are  the  twin  daughters 
of  my  mother's  brother.  Left  orphans,  and  with- 
out means,  my  mother  took  them  and  brought 
them  up  as  my  sisters.  Belle  married  St.  John 
when  she  was  nineteen.  It  was  a  desperate  love- 
match,  but  St.  John  was  a  wild  boy  and  no  one 
approved  of  it.  Between  his  riotous  living  and 
Belle's  extravagance,  they  got  into  dreadful  debt, 
and — ahem — St.  John  overdrew,  you  know,  so 
he  went  to  Europe  for  an  indefinite  period." 

"  Then  he  is  a  thief !  "  I  cried,  shocked,  horri- 
fied. 

"  You  musn't  call  it  that,  dear.  Nobody  in 
society  does." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  be  in  society  if  such 
people  are  its  constituents.  And  to  think,  Jack, 
that  swindler's  wife  has  been  insolent  to  me! 
Why,  my  father  would  have  starved  in  honor, 
and  have  seen  me  starve — " 

"  I  know  all  that,  my  dear  little  girl,"  Jack 
interrupted,  rather  hastily.  "  All  the  world  is 
unfortunately  not  like  your  father." 

"  What  disgrace  hangs  over  Lou  ? "  I  asked, 


72  Dainty  Devils. 

coldly,  for  I  did  not  feel  that  he  half  appreciated 
my  father. 

Jack  started. 

"  None,  Dot.  What  made  you  ask  that  ?  " 

"  I  am  getting  skeptical,  that's  all.  She's  older 
and  taller  and  much  giddier  than  Mr.  Allison." 

"  Truly,  dear,  for  a  child  brought  up  in  the 
country,  you  are  most  precocious." 

"  The  result  of  spending  five  months  in  the 
society  of  my  clever  husband.  Jack,  dear,"  I  said, 
nestling  into  his  shoulder,  "  you  won't  pretend 
Lou  married  him  for  love  ?  " 

"  I  never  asked  her,  and  she  never  told  me." 

"  Oh,  Jack,  you  are  awfully  unkind.  Tell  me 
how  that  match  was  made.  I  wager  it  wasn't 
in  Heaven." 

Jack  sighed,  shook  his  head  at  my  incorrigi- 
bility  and  finally  began  in  a  resigned  sort  of 
fashion : 

"  Dot,  it  may  seem  strange  to  your  youth  and 
inexperience,  but  women  often  marry  because  cir- 
cumstances cause  marriage  to  be  the  most  prac- 
ticable and  reasonable  step.  Lou  had  half-a- 
dozen  offers  while  very  young.  She  refused 
them,  and  was  still  single  at  twenty-seven,  when 
my  mother  suddenly  died.  What  could  she  do? 
I  was  a  bachelor  and  she  couldn't  stay  here.  Nat- 
urally she  went  to  her  sister's,  where  Belle  and 
St.  John  had  not  yet  separated,  but  were  leading 


November.  73 

a  most  wretched  life.  A  year  later,  when  St. 
John's  disgrace  came,  Allison  stood  ready  to 
marry  Lou  and  take  Belle  to  her  sister's  home. 
It  was  only  to  be  expected  that  Lou  would  accept 
him  with  gratitude — which  she  did." 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  in  extreme  contempt,  "  to  marry 
a  man  for  a  home !  I'd  rather  be  hung." 

"  I  believe  you  would,  dear.  Lou  wouldn't, 
however — at  least  at  that  time,"  he  added, 
thoughtfully. 

"  So  all  this  is  why  you  pay  for  Belle's 
gowns  ?  " 

"  That's  not  the  way  to  put  it.  It  was  my 
mother's  request  that  I  should  make  an  allow- 
ance of  two  thousand  a  year  to  each  of  the  girls. 
Needless  to  say,  I  do  so,  and  I  haven't  the  slight- 
est doubt  that  every  penny  of  it  goes  for  clothes." 

"  Do  you  know,  Jack,"  I  asked,  faintly,  my 
face  under  the  lapel  of  his  coat,  "  that  father  and 
I  and  Lame  Ann  lived  in  Graytown  on  five  hun- 
dred a  year  ?  " 

"  Dear  little  thing !  "  said  Jack — The  rest  was 
not  interesting — except  for  us  two. 


Jack  told  me  this  morning  that  I  must  take 
the  carriage  and  call  on  Lou  and  Belle.  The  re- 
quest was  not  so  awfully  unwelcome,  for  I  actu- 
ally was  longing  to  see  the  house  where  Lou  and 


74  Dainty  Devils. 

Belle  were  so  poor — How  must  their  clothes  look 
in  an  abode  deserving  that  adjective?  Quite 
like  Cinderella's  ball-gown  in  the  step-mother's 
kitchen,  I  fancied. 

I  went  down  the  steps  of  my  own  home  as 
slowly  as  I  could,  to  prolong  the  pleasure  of  gaz- 
ing upon  the  beautiful,  shiny  horses  with  their 
harness  glittering  in  the  sun.  I  am  finding  lots 
of  compensation  for  never  having  had  much  as 
a  child  and  growing  girl.  The  comfort  and  lux- 
ury are  duly  appraised  as  I  meet  them — always 
provided  I  am  in  the  mental  condition  to  be  as 
it  were  two  personalities ;  one  who  undergoes 
the  experience ;  the  other,  who  observes  and  en- 
joys the  pleasure  of  the  real  participant. 

The  day  I  arrived  in  New  York  I  enjoyed 
nothing,  because  after  the  ordeal  at  the  pier  I 
hardly  seemed  half  an  individual,  let  alone  two. 
This  morning,  however,  I  was  beautifully  nerved 
up  to  appreciation  of  all  the  glories  of  my  new 
existence,  and  when  the  footman  put  the  fur  robe 
over  my  lap  and  tucked  in  my  feet,  and  then 
straightened  up  with  his  hand  on  the  door,  ask- 
ing, "  Where  to,  Madam  ?''  I  again  thought  of 
Cinderella;  something  like  this  was  her  emotion 
going  to  the  ball.  Having  given  Lou's  address, 
the  door  slammed  and  the  horses  started  and  I 
slipped  off  my  gloves  to  run  my  fingers  deep  into 
the  lovely  fur  which  seemed  so  comfortable  and 


November.  75 

light  and  warm  on  this  cold,  bleak  day.  Sud- 
denly a  disturbing  thought  of  some  poor  old  peo- 
ple in  Graytown,  who  shivered  all  winter,  flashed 
into  my  brain.  Formerly,  in  poor  little  jackets 
grown  thin  from  wear  and  brushing,  and  short 
because  I  grew  taller,  I  often  shivered  myself; 
therefore  I  have  a  close  acquaintance  with  the 
sensation  and  know  how  extremely  unpleasant 
and  miserable  it  is.  People  who  have  never  been 
cold  through  want  of  sufficient  clothing,  cannot 
sympathize  with  the  shivering.  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  ask  Jack  the  minute  I  got  home  to  send 
those  old  people  some  fur  things  like  the  carriage- 
robes. 

The  horses  had  stopped.  It  was  in  a  street 
where  fine  old  residences  were  being  rapidly 
transformed  into  milliners'  shops,  dressmakers' 
establishments  and  Italian  restaurants.  I  knew 
nothing  of  the  former  status  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, of  course,  till  I  asked  Jack  later  why  Lou 
had  taken  a  house  where  there  were  so  many 
business-places.  He  told  me  the  Allison  family 
had  lived  in  that  house  for  forty  years,  and  that 
for  old  homes  to  be  turned  into  shops  was  only 
the  general  fate  of  lower  New  York.  It  seemed 
to  me  a  vast  pity. 

A  man  in  gorgeous  livery  answered  the  bell. 
His  manner  of  absolute  self-control  at  first 
stunned  and  then  made  me  quite  envious.  Mrs. 


76  Dainty  Devils. 

Allison  was  at  home;  Mrs.  St.  John  had  gone 
out. 

I  was  shown  into  a  reception-room,  dusty,  un- 
inviting and  untidily  shabby.  Not  poverty- 
stricken,  like  our  rooms  at  home  in  Graytown,  but 
worn  and  neglected-looking,  although  some  of 
the  things  might  have  done  very  well  if  Lame 
Ann  could  have  rubbed  them  up  a  bit.  The 
floor  was  of  hard  wood,  waxed  in  some  remote 
period  and  since  left  to  its  own  devices.  The 
moving  of  chairs  here  and  there  had  made  it 
look  something  like  the  ice  when  the  first  boys 
have  skated  over  it,  only  of  course  not  near  so 
clean.  My  eyes  had  wandered  to  the  medley  of 
pictures  upon  the  walls,  when  Lou  came  down. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you !  How  funny 
to  come  in  the  morning!  Still,  you're  a  cousin, 
you  know,  and  I'm  glad  you  begin  to  act  like 
one.  Don't  look  at  me,  please,  as  my  toilette  is 
still  to  be  made." 

She  had  kissed  me  and  pulled  me  down  upon 
a  couch  beside  her.  I  thought  she  looked  exceed- 
ingly pretty  in  a  long,  loose,  orange-colored  satin 
thing  with  black  velvet  bows  to  tie  it  together. 
But  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning ! 

"  Jack  told  me  to  call  to-day,"  I  said,  foolishly, 
"  and  he  didn't  mention  whether  I  should  go  in 
the  morning  or  the  afternoon." 

"  Actually,  Dot,  your  obedience  is  delicious ! 


November.  77 

I  wonder  how  long  you'll  keep  it  up  ?  But,  can- 
didly, you  interrupted  my  breakfast.  Would  you 
mind  coming  upstairs  ?  " 

The  house  is  what  is  called  a  "  basement,"  and 
the  drawing-room  and  the  dining-room  are  up- 
stairs. Astonished  to  hear  that  Lou  breakfasted 
at  such  an  hour,  I  asked  her  if  she  were  ill. 

"  Oh,  dear  no !  "  she  exclaimed,  putting  her 
arm  about  my  waist  as  we  went  upstairs ;  "  I 
went  to  bed  at  three  and  was  making  up  my 
beauty-sleep." 

"  What  kept  you  up  so  late?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  not  late.  You'll  be  doing  the 
same  and  worse.  Wait,  and  we'll  see.  We  went 
to  the  theatre  and  had  supper  afterward  at  Mrs. 
Layton's.  That's  all.  Sit  down,  Dot.  Have 
some  coffee  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you." 

Lou  tasted  some  from  her  cup.  She  made  a 
face,  a  studied  one  I  think,  for  it  was  very  be- 
coming. 

"  Dear  me !    Stone  cold." 

She  rang.  No  one  answered.  She  rang  again. 
Still  nobody  came.  Then  she  rang  furiously. 
When  the  man  who  had  opened  the  door  for 
me  appeared,  I  expected  him  to  be  annihilated 
upon  the  spot.  Lou  merely  told  him  to  bring 
some  hot  coffee.  He  departed,  grinning. 

"  I  thought  you'd  scold  him,"  I  said,  amazed. 


78  Dainty  Devils. 

Lou  laughed.  Her  laugh  was,  against  my  will, 
making  me  like  her. 

"  My  child,"  she  said,  cheerfully,  "  you  will 
probably  never  know  what  it  is  to  owe  a  servant 
six  months'  wages.  I  do,  and  I  know  when  si- 
lence is  a  necessity." 

"  You  don't  owe  a  servant  money  ? "  I  was 
shocked. 

"  Don't  I !  The  cook  leaves  this  afternoon, 
my  dear.  I  only  owe  her  for  two  months,  but 
she's  canny  and  won't  risk  any  longer.  Davis  is 
insolent  and  lazy,  but  he  stays,  Dot.  I  sus- 
pect that  he's  stealing  the  wine  and  selling  it — 
still — another  might  do  the  same,  you  know,  and 
expect  wages  in  addition." 

Lou  rang  again.  This  time  Davis'  appearance 
was  instantaneous. 

"  More  rolls,  Davis." 

"  There  are  no  more,  Madam." 

Lou  flushed.  The  next  second  her  laugh  car- 
ried the  incident  off  as  usual.  My  head  would 
have  dropped ;  hers  went  higher. 

"  You  may  go,  Davis,"  she  said,  calmly,  to  the 
man. 

"It's  well  I'm  going  out  to  dinner,  isn't  it? 
You  see  I  shan't  need  any  luncheon,  and  my 
dinner  is  assured — cook  or  no  cook,  and  nothing 
to  speak  of  in  the  pantry." 


November.  79 

I  was  at  a  loss,  as  Lou  certainly  appeared  to 
be  in  earnest. 

"  How  is  Mr.  Allison  ?  "  I  asked,  in  the  desire 
to  change  the  subject. 

Lou  set  down  her  cup  and  shook  her  finger  at 
me. 

"  Yes,  how  ?  Dot,  my  husband  has  never 
flirted  in  his  life.  And  he  seems  immensely 
taken  with  you.  Beware  !  " 

I  flushed,  drawing  myself  up  most  indignantly. 

"  Mrs.  Allison,  I  am  a  married  woman,"  I  said, 
haughtily. 

Lou  shook  with  laughter. 

"  You  are.  And  do  you  think  that  makes  any 
difference?  Why,  my  dear,  single  women  don't 
get  divorces,  you  know." 

"  But,"  I  said,  shaking  over  the  insult,  "  you 
don't  call  any  divorced  woman  a  lady,  do  you? 
In  Graytown  we  do  not  consider  them  even 
respectable.  As  for  me,  I  am  a  von  Waldeck, 
as  well  as  Jack's  wife." 

Lou  became  suddenly  very  serious.  Her  slim 
index  finger  tapped  the  table. 

"  Dot,  you  must  learn  to  be  careful  what  you 
say.  My  own  mother  was  divorced  before  she 
married  Jack's  uncle."  A  sort  of  defiant  haugh- 
tiness was  in  the  tone,  and  a  strange  tenseness  ap- 
peared in  Lou's  bare,  slender  neck. 

"  I  didn't  know,"  I  said,  embarrassed.    "  If  I 


8o  Dainty  Devils. 

had,  I  would  not  have  expressed  myself  to  you. 
However,  my  feeling  remains  the  same." 

Lou  suddenly  relaxed. 

"  There !  I  shan't  be  angry  with  you.  You're 
only  a  child  brought  up  in  the  woods,  after  all. 
O-O-oh !  Don't  get  excited  again.  Such  temper 
in  so  small  an  individual  frightens  me.  Come! 
Do  you  indulge  ?  " 

She  had  turned  her  chair  about,  and  opened 
a  drawer  of  the  buffet.  To  my  complete  horror, 
she  took  out  a  silver  box  full  of  cigarettes  and 
smilingly  held  it  out  to  me. 

"  You're  not  in  earnest  ?  "  I  gasped. 

The  box  held  a  match-safe.  Lou  lighted  a 
cigarette,  placed  it  between  her  lips  and  threw 
her  head  back,  puffing  rapidly. 

"  Turkish,"  she  said,  after  a  moment.  "  Just 
a  trace  of  opium  and  so  inexpressibly  sooth- 
ing." 

She  looked  so  pretty,  so  reckless  and  so  totally 
unladylike,  that  between  conflicting  impressions 
— and  stupidity — I  was  speechless. 

"  Does  your  husband  approve  of  it  ?  "  I  asked, 
at  last. 

"  Don't  know." 

"  But  doesn't  he  smell  it  when  you  kiss  him  ? 
I  always  know  when  Jack  has  been  smok- 
ing." 

Lou  took  the  cigarette  from  her  lips  and  burst 


November.  81 

into  the  loudest  laugh  I  had  yet  heard  from  her, 
although  it  seemed  that  she  was  almost  always 
laughing. 

"  Kiss  him !  "  she  fairly  screamed.  "  Why,  I 
think  Arnold  would  drop  dead  if  I  should  do 
that.  My  little  child,  we  haven't  even  shaken 
hands  for  more  than  six  months." 

"  And  yet,"  I  said,  tears  coming  into  my  eyes, 
"  you  seem  so  dreadfully  happy  and  gay.  Oh, 
how  can  you  laugh  at  me  so  ?  " 

I  stood  up,  hurt,  unhappy,  insulted. 

"  Don't  go.  Please  don't.  You  are  so  deli- 
ciously  unusual.  I  promise  not  to  laugh  any 
more — if  I  can  help  it."  She  burst  out  again. 

I  knew  I  was  right  but  I  felt  foolish  and  in- 
significant in  the  presence  of  her  ridicule.  We 
put  as  many  false  valuations  upon  ourselves  as 
ever  we  do  upon  others.  I  did  not  exactly  wish 
I  were  like  Lou  Allison,  but  I  did  wish,  just  then, 
that  I  did  not  care  what  other  people  did.  I 
think  I  understand  why  Cain  asked,  "  Am  I  my 
brother's  keeper  ?  "  He  probably  felt  that  under 
ordinary  conditions  the  question  would  be  just 
and  reasonable,  the  responsibility  for  one's  own 
sins  seeming  to  be  sufficient  for  one's  conscience 
to  undertake,  without  the  super-added  doings  or 
undoings  of  relatives  and  friends. 

Lou  was  bright,  fascinating,  interesting  to  an 
uncommon  degree.  Why  could  I  not  be  indif- 
6 


82  Dainty  Devils. 

ferent  to  what  she  did?  I  had  known  her  only 
a  few  days  and  began  by  hating  her.  And  here 
I  was  bitterly  regretting  that  I  had  dared  to 
condemn  something  she  did !  The  power  of  rid- 
icule is  stupendous,  especially  if  the  victim  be 
a  woman.  No  wonder  the  utmost  penalty  will 
be  meted  out  to  him  who  says  to  his  brother, 
"  Thou  Fool !  " 

Flight  seemed  the  only  resource  for  my  col- 
lapsing dignity. 

"  Good-morning,  Mrs.  Allison,"  I  said,  half- 
blind  with  mortification  and  tears. 

Lou  threw  her  cigarette  away  and  was  after 
me  on  the  stairs. 

"  Please  don't  be  angry,  Dot.  And  I  wanted 
to  hear  all  about  the  dinner  you're  to  give !  Belle 
and  I  are  getting  new  gowns  for  it." 

"  I'm  not  angry,"  I  said,  relenting  entirely. 
"  But  I  must  go." 

She  went  all  the  way  to  the  door  with  me  and 
kissed  me  good-bye.  No  matter  what  she  may 
say  or  do,  I  cannot  hate  Lou  Allison,  although  I 
want  to. 

Jack  had  told  me  that  I  ought  to  take  a  look 
at  the  shops — Sixth  Avenue  for  lesser  elegance 
and  Broadway  and  Fifth  Avenue  for  the  places 
where  swelldom  is  fitted  out.  So  I  told  the  foot- 
man I  would  take  that  drive.  We  went  down 
Sixth  Avenue — how  clever  of  the  coachman  to 


November.  83 

leave  the  choicest  things  for  the  end! — and  the 
first  place  that  fascinated  me  was  a  big  confec- 
tioner's on  a  corner.  They  had  in  the  window 
such  charming-looking  things  filled  with  cream 
and  piled  up  on  a  dish,  that  I  immediately  wanted 
some  for  luncheon.  Accordingly  I  touched  the 
little  electric  button  and  the  carriage  stopped. 
When  the  footman  opened  the  door,  he  evidently 
thought  I  wanted  him  to  go  in  and  order  some- 
thing. I  walked  past  him  and  into  the  confec- 
tioner's. 

"  I  want  all  those  cream  things  you  have  in 
the  window/'  I  said  to  the  young  girl  in  attend- 
ance. 

She  stared  at  me. 

After  a  moment,  "  They're  paper,  Madam," 
said  she.  "  We  can  have  your  order  filled  and 
delivered  by  four  this  afternoon.  How  many, 
please  ?  " 

I  had  recovered  myself. 

"  Two  dozen,"  I  said,  calmly,  and  gave  my 
name  and  address. 

As  I  did  so,  the  portion  of  a  black  velvet  hat 
that  I  had  noticed  behind  the  counter  at  the  end 
of  the  shop,  suddenly  became  a  whole  stylish 
creation,  with  a  face  beneath  it.  I  could  not 
move  I  was  so  surprised,  for  it  was  Belle  St. 
John  who  straightened  up  and  called  to  me. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ? — Don't  you  know 


84  Dainty  Devils. 

you  belong  at  Sherry's  ?  "  She  held  a  partially 
eaten  bun  in  her  hand  and  whisked  some  crumbs 
off  her  jacket  with  a  pocket-handkerchief. 

"  I  had  an  order  to  give/'  I  returned,  stiffly ; 
"  but  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

Belle  bit  into  her  bun. 

"  Having  my  luncheon.  These  buns  are  good 
and  cost  only  five  cents.  They  are  also  filling. 
Lou's  cook  is  leaving  and  famine  has  begun  to 
reign  at  home,  while  a  prospective  dinner  this 
evening  is  too  far  in  the  perspective  to  allow 
appreciation  of  its  proper  proportions.  Oh,  don't 
look  so  astonished,  Dot !  Lots  of  the  aristocracy 
come  here  to  hide  behind  the  counter  and  eat 
a  bun.  Look !  Here  comes  a  couple  now." 

Two  pretty  young  girls,  who  greeted  Belle 
by  her  name,  had  come  into  the  place. 

"  Good  morning,"  I  said,  hastily,  and  hurried 
for  the  door  before  Belle  could  get  in  any  more. 
Perhaps  it  was  wicked  pride,  but  I  did  not  want 
those  girls  to  believe  that  I  too  had  been  behind 
the  counter  eating  a  bun.  In  our  poorest  days 
I  never  was  obliged  to  snatch  a  meal  in  such  a 
fashion. 

"  Home,"  I  said  to  the  footman.  "  I  don't  care 
about  any  more  shops." 

Jack  found  me  cuddled  up  in  a  chair  in  the 
library. 


November.  85 

"  Jack,"  I  said,  wearily,  reaching  up  to  pull 
his  head  down  close  as  he  stooped  over  me. 
"  I've  learned  so  much  to-day,  that  I  think  my 
head  must  be  swelling.  And  Jack,  how  poor  are 
the  Allisons  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  dreadful  piece  of  feminine  curiosity ! 
If  you  have  a  wild  desire  to  know  the  amount  of 
their  income,  Allison  has  ten  thousand  a  year." 

"  And  you  give  her  two  more,"  I  cried,  sit- 
ting up  so  suddenly  that  I  bumped  Jack's  head. 
"  Jack,  I  know  two  paralytics  in  Graytown  who 
would  starve  and  freeze  to  death  were  it  not  for 
the  little  that  Uncle  Dalton  gives  them  each  win- 
ter. Oh,  won't  you  give  them  the  two  thou- 
sand?" 

"  My  poor  child,  how  excited  you  are !  You 
shall  have  something  for  your  paralytics,  cer- 
tainly. And  still  Lou  need  not  be  denied  what 
my  mother  wished  her  to  have." 

"  Oh,  Jack,  how  good  you  are !  " 

"  Have  you  been  good  to-day  ?  "  he  asked,  seri- 
ously. "  Did  you  practice  ?  " 

I  hung  my  head.  There  must  be  a  frivolous, 
shirking  streak  in  me  somewhere,  for  since  I 
have  been  here  in  this  big  house  with  all  its 
novelty  and  distractions,  I  do  not  find  my  old 
ambitions  troublesomely  clamorous  for  attention. 
Had  poverty  not  made  discipline  and  self-denial 
imperative  at  Graytown,  and  lots  of  money  and 


86  Dainty  Devils. 

no  obligations  been  mine,  I  wonder  if  I  might 
not  be  to-day  a  counterpart  of  Lou  or  Belle  ? 


It  is  the  day  after  my  dinner.  I  cannot  say 
that  the  occasion  was  one  of  unclouded  joy. 
First  the  women  made  me  nervous,  because  their 
gowns,  with  the  exception  of  one  worn  by  a  love- 
ly young  girl,  were  most  shockingly  abbreviated 
in  the  bodice,  and  I  was  the  only  one  with  any 
kind  of  a  sleeve — and  even  my  sleeves  amounted 
to  very  little,  being,  indeed,  what  Lame  Ann 
would  call  "  Hardly  worth  the  bother."  When 
the  first  woman  entered  the  drawing-room — a 
stout  elderly  creature  with  the  tendons  of  her 
neck  painfully  prominent,  as  though  the  plump- 
ness had  receded  from  them  like  the  tide  when  it 
goes  down  and  exposes  the  skeleton  of  the  pier 
— I  fancied  that  her  maid  had  left  some  kind 
of  a  string  untied,  and  longed  to  tell  her,  only 
I  did  not  know  how  to  accomplish  the  hint  with 
Jack  and  the  woman's  husband  present.  How- 
ever, my  idea  of  the  untied  string  vanished  when 
Lou  and  Belle  arrived — or  else  more  maids  had 
been  heedless  that  night.  All  the  guests  having 
come  and  about  all  the  bodices  being  cut  upon 
the  same  lines,  I  concluded  that  I  was  simply 
facing  the  fashion.  Until  then  I  fancied  that 
only  ballet-dancers  wore  such  things.  I  had  been 


November.  87 

at  a  play  once  at  the  Town  Hall  in  Graytown, 
and  not  one  of  the  actresses  had  worn  a  gown 
made  in  a  style  to  cavil  at.  So  I  concluded  that 
the  obnoxious  people  one  heard  about  were  the 
ballet-dancers.  At  my  dinner  last  night  I  wished 
these  New  York  society-women  would  take  the 
actresses  as  an  example. 

In  spite  of  their  objectionable  gowns,  my 
guests  had  a  vivacity,  a  self-possession  and  a 
grace,  which  I  envied  from  the  bottom  of  my 
heart.  Two  in  particular  interested  me  intensely. 
They  were  mother  and  daughter.  The  mother 
was  the  handsomest  woman  I  have  ever  seen. 
Jack  told  me  afterward  that  she  is  barely  forty, 
although  her  hair  is  snow  white;  above  her 
dark  eyes  and  black  eyebrows  it  is  too  beautiful 
for  words,  all  soft  and  fluffy  in  a  pompadour 
without  any  "  rat  "  or  curling-iron.  The  daugh- 
ter is  twenty,  very  tall  and  slender,  with  wavy 
black  hair,  eyes  like  her  mother's,  a  lovely  pale, 
high-bred  face  and  a  voice  so  seductive  that  one 
wants  to  hear  her  talk  all  the  time.  This  she 
does  not,  seeming  often  distraite,  and  as  if  under 
all  her  serenity  there  was  something  troubling 
her.  Her  gown  being  much  less  decolletee  than 
the  others,  I  wondered  if  she  was  worried  about 
the  rest,  as  I  was.  Once  while  I  was  looking 
at  her  worshippingly,  she  glanced  up,  straight 
into  my  eyes.  We  both  smiled,  and  I  think  that 


88  Dainty  Devils. 

each  smile  said  to  the  other  pair  of  eyes,  "  I  love 
you." 

I  did  not  eat  anything  except  one  oyster  at  the 
beginning  and  one  little  frozen  thing  at  the  end. 
There  were  too  many  distractions.  I  confess 
besides  that  I  was  mortally  hungry  and  might 
have  eaten  heartily  had  I  known  how  to  help 
myself  to  the  complicated  concoctions  that  were 
in  such  a  matter-of-fact  way  presented  at  my  left 
elbow.  The  array  of  knives  and  forks  and 
glasses  was  paralyzing  to  my  pathetically  limited 
code,  and  I  went  wrong  at  the  very  start  by 
putting  the  fish-fork  into  a  poor  little  oyster. 
Looking  up  immediately  in  the  most  hideously 
frightened  way  to  see  if  any  one  had  observed, 
I  met  Mr.  Allison's  gaze.  Had  he  glanced  away 
I  should  have  known  that  he  felt  guilty  of  hav- 
ing caught  me  in  a  break.  What  grand  attain- 
ment to  be  master  of  such  self-control !  As  I 
laid  down  the  fork  and  pushed  it  under  my  plate 
to  save  it  for  the  fish,  I  almost  laughed  aloud 
at  an  absurd  recollection  of  our  trip  to  the  North 
Cape  last  August.  We  had  stopped,  about  noon, 
at  a  little  cottage  that  took  the  place  of  an  inn, 
and  were  most  hospitably  invited  to  partake  of 
the  midday  meal.  The  bare  table  did  not  sur- 
prise us,  nor  the  wooden  bowl  full  of  potatoes 
boiled  in  the  peel,  which  stood  steaming  in  the 
center  of  the  broad  expanse  of  wood.  We  sat 


November.  89 

down,  expectantly,  made  cheerful  by  the  host's 
encouraging  smiles.  But  with  each  second,  our 
cheerfulness  shrank.  Jack  looked  at  me,  and  I 
at  him.  Finally  convinced  that  plates,  knives, 
forks,  etcetera,  were  not  forthcoming,  Jack  said 
to  the  interpreter,  "  Ask  him  how  we  are  to  eat 
them?"  The  question  being  duly  translated,  a 
beautiful  look  of  unselfish  pity  at  our  ignorance 
overspread  the  Norwegian's  face. 

"  Eat  them,  one  after  the  other,"  he  said,  be- 
nignly. 

That  meal  and  my  coming-out  dinner  might  be 
used  as  the  two  extremes  of  civilized  eating. 
One  cannot  call  the  Norwegian  a  savage,  because 
he  is  a  Christian,  and  has  a  house  and  bed- 
steads and  a  table.  The  episode  of  the  fish-fork 
made  me  long  for  the  primeval  privilege  of  eat- 
ing with  the  fingers,  "  one  after  the  other,"  with- 
out further  embarrassment  than  the  limit  of  the 
number  of  potatoes  in  the  bowl,  or  the  stomach's 
capacity.  . 

Well,  I  watched  and  I  shall  know  better  next 
time.  I  wonder  what  Lame  Ann  would  say  to 
vinegar  and  oil  being  served  on  sliced  oranges 
as  a  salad,  and  to  real  roses  sticking,  frozen 
and  dead,  into  each  form  of  ice-cream!  To  my 
taste  the  poor,  ill-treated  flowers  did  not  look 
a  bit  pretty,  and  they  impressed  me  as  having 
been  martyred  to  a  fashion  invented  for  the  pleas- 


9o  Dainty  Devils. 

ure  of  dinner-givers  who  wanted  to  show  they 
were  so  rich  that  money  was  no  object.  I  intend 
to  tell  Mrs.  Blackwell  that  I  do  not  want  any 
more  dead  roses  served  at  my  table. 

The  dishes  in  which  these  dead  flowers  were 
laid  out  for  their  obsequies,  were  of  Venetian 
crystal  and  gold,  and  alarmingly  extravagant 
both  as  to  intrinsic  value  and  probable  destruc- 
tibility,  which  under  modern  conditions  means 
frequent  replenishment.  The  dishes  ridiculously 
directed  my  thoughts  again  to  the  Norwegian 
hamlet.  We  had  supped  at  the  house  of  the  same 
peasant  who  had  served  us  our  dinner.  Some 
friends  of  Jack's  having  overtaken  us,  eight  sat 
down  at  the  nicely-scrubbed  wooden  table.  The 
repast  consisted  of  black  bread — whole  loaves, 
to  be  cut  held  tightly  against  the  chest  of  him 
who  wanted  a  slice — and  sour  milk  in  blue-and- 
white  china  bowls.  Blue-and-white  china  bowls ! 
A  provokingly  illusive  notion  possessed  me  that 
I  had  previously  encountered  those  identical  blue- 
and-white  china  bowls  under  other  circumstances. 

"  Wait  a  minute !  "  I  cried,  dashing  abruptly 
from  the  table  and  up  the  narrow  stairs  to  the 
row  of  small  bed-rooms  where  travelers  were 
accommodated.  From  one  to  the  other  I  ran,  find- 
ing the  same  object  missing  from  each.  Jack 
overtook  me  at  the  end  of  the  row. 


November.  91 

"  Dot,  darling,"  he  gasped,  "  have  you  lost 
your  wits  ?  " 

"  No,  Jack,  only  my  wash-basin !  Sh !  Don't 
tell  them,  they're  so  hungry!  Only  please  let 
you  and  me  eat  nothing  but  bread." 

Burton  accidentally  clicking  the  bottle  against 
my  glass  as  he  poured  the  champagne,  brought 
me  back  to  my  elaborate  dinner.  I  began  to 
wonder  whether  I  had  sustained  any  considerable 
part  of  the  conversation.  The  clicking  of  the 
glass  seemed  like  a  knell  for  the  wasted  oppor- 
tunity of  listening  more  attentively  to  the  en- 
lightened conversation  about  me. 

There  were  a  great  many  kinds  of  wine  served, 
the  women  drinking  most  of  the  champagne. 
Belle  St.  John  finished  a  bottle,  if  not  more.  I 
expected  her  to  fall  under  the  table,  like  one 
sees  German  students  in  pictures,  but  she  acted 
no  more,  nor  less,  irrationally  than  she  always 
does.  How  did  she  get  used  to  it?  I  had  half 
a  glass  of  Burgundy,  and  a  very  little  champagne. 
And  I  felt  that  my  cheeks  were  unrefinedly  red, 
and  had  an  uncomfortable  idea  that  I  should 
not  care  to  have  father  or  Uncle  Dalton  see  me. 

I  was  sorry  that  Jack,  who  did  the  placing,  put 
Mr.  Allison  so  far  from  my  seat  at  the  table.  He 
sat  next  the  stout  dowager,  who  talked  of  nothing 
except  things  to  eat.  Mr.  Allison  was  rather 
plainer  in  evening  than  in  ordinary  dress.  I  still 


92  Dainty  Devils. 

liked  him  best,  after  Jack,  although  two  or  three 
of  the  other  men  were  also  nice.  Lou  Allison 
was  looking  wonderfully  handsome,  but  she  paid 
small  attention  to  the  man  next  to  her.  Her 
eyes  were  all  for  a  young,  good-looking  chap, 
graduated  from  Harvard  last  year,  who  seemed 
quite  as  much  interested  in  Lou  as  she  was  in 
him.  He  talked  very  well,  if  rather  monoto- 
nously, of  athletics  and  Boston-bull-terriers,  upon 
which  subjects  Lou  appeared  to  be  very  well 
posted ;  in  fact,  she  and  this  Percy  Earle  kept 
up  an  uninterrupted  conversation  from  the  first 
course  to  the  last.  Lou  seems  to  fancy  young 
chaps,  this  boy  looking  even  younger  than  Mr. 
Allison,  who  is  barely  twenty-six.  Now  Lou 
and  Mr.  Earle  would  never  have  taken  my  at- 
tention so  extensively  had  I  not  discovered  that 
the  young  girl  with  the  lovely  face  and  distraite 
manner,  was  greatly  absorbed  in  watching  and 
listening  to  the  pair.  I  have  forgotten  to  mention 
that  the  girl's  name  is  Marion  La  Grange. 

Jack  had  told  me  I  must  rise  from  the  table 
before  the  coffee  and  take  the  ladies  into  the 
drawing-room.  I  felt  quite  like  a  lion-tamer  in 
the  circus  as  I  went  through  the  ceremony ;  it 
seemed  so  funny  for  me  to  control  the  actions 
of  these  gorgeous  society  dames.  Passing  Jack, 
he  took  my  hand  and  said,  in  the  dear  German 
fashion,  "  Gesegnete  Mahlzeit !  " 


November.  93 

"What's  that  you  are  saying?"  asked  Belle 
St.  John,  inquisitively. 

"  The  German  custom  after  a  meal,"  answered 
Jack,  "  and  one  I  happen  to  find  very  pretty. 
It's  a  mixture  of  piety  and  courtesy  and  means 
literally,  '  God  bless  the  meal.'  " 

"  I  think  it's  lovely,"  said  Marion  La  Grange, 
as  we  entered  the  drawing-room.  "  You  know 
I  was  educated  in  Germany,  Mrs.  Woodward; 
I  am  at  home  only  two  years." 

Again  we  smiled  into  each  other's  souls.  What 
had  Lou  Allison  whispered  to  Mr.  Earle  as  she 
passed  him?  I  would  wager  my  head  it  was  not 
"  Gesegnete  Mahlzeit !  " 

Lou  refused  coffee ;  she,  and  all  the  others 
except  Marion  LaGrange,  took  the  liqueur. 
Beastly  sweet  stuff  to  spoil  digestion — Jack  never 
touches  it. 

Removed  from  the  stimulating  presence  of 
the  men,  my  companions  in  the  drawing-room 
appeared  quite  dull  and  sleepy  after  dinner,  ap- 
parently not  finding  each  other  worth  the  effort 
of  struggling  against  the  lethargy  induced  by 
over-eating  and  drinking.  Lou's  voice  breaking 
abruptly  into  a  half-drowsy  silence,  quite  startled 
the  little  group. 

"  Won't  you  play  for  us,  Dot  ?  "  she  asked. 

I  hesitated.  Something  told  me  that  a  hostess 
did  not  as  a  rule  play  to  her  dinner-guests. 


94  Dainty  Devils. 

"  If  you  would,"  said  Marion  LaGrange,  eag- 
erly, "  we  should  like  it  so  much." 

The  girl's  eyes  had  lighted  up,  and  for  her 
sake,  I  went  into  the  music-room.  I  felt  as  if 
I  had  always  known  Marion  LaGrange. 

"  Do  you  prefer  piano  or  violin,  Miss  La- 
Grange?  If  you  say  violin  you  must  accompany 
me." 

"  I  should  love  to,"  she  said,  simply.  She  came 
and  looked  at  some  of  the  music  and  I  noticed 
her  exquisite  white  hands;  they  were  like  ivory 
made  warm  and  mobile. 

"  Oh,  will  you  play  this  ?  "  she  asked,  suddenly. 

It  was  Raff's  Cavatina. 

"  Certainly." 

If  I  played  it  as  well  as  they  said  afterward, 
the  girl's  accompaniment  had  been  the  inspira- 
tion. I  think  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she 
left  the  piano.  If  that  girl  is  not  in  love,  I 
never  was.  And  I  am  sure  it  is  with  that  ath- 
letic, Boston-bull-terrier  Percy  Earle!  Pearls 
before  swine! 

My  little  thorn,  probably  the  kind  father  had 
in  mind  when  he  warned  me,  was  not  want- 
ing. 

"  Ah,  really,  very  excellently  played,"  said  the 
dowager ;  "  you,  ah,  gave  lessons  before  marriage, 
did  you  not  ?  " 

"  No,"  I  answered,  very  evenly,  "  I  only  took 


November.  95 

lessons,  and  father  would  find  me  still  badly  in 
need  of  instruction." 

"  Oh,  ah,  you  are  much  too  modest,  I'm  sure," 
she  murmured,  a  bit  confusedly. 

"  I  hear  your  niece  is  getting  lots  of  orders 
for  her  painted  dinner-cards,"  said  Lou  Allison, 
in  that  sweet  voice  that  stabs. 

The  dowager  put  up  her  lorgnette. 

"  My  niece  ?  I  was  not  aware  that  she  was 
looking  for  orders.  I  fancy  you  are  mistaken." 
Annihilation  for  Lou  was  in  the  tone. 

"  Not  at  all,"  Lou  returned,  indolently  waving 
her  point  lace  fan.  "  She  did  those  for  Mrs. 
Woodward's  dinner  to-night." 

"  And  how  dainty  and  clever  they  were !  "  ex- 
claimed Marion  LaGrange. 

There's   a   character   worth  having! 

I  told  Jack  when  every  one  had  gone,  that  I 
was  once  more  in  love.  The  dear  old  fellow 
looked  a  wee  bit  alarmed. 

"  Feminine  gender,  Jack,"  I  added,  consolingly 
patting  his  cheek ;  "  it's  Marion  La  Grange." 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,"  he  said,  sincerely, 
"  but  not  my  type." 

"  Not  only  that,  Jack.    She's  lovely  besides." 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  And  a  first-rate  companion 
for  you.  Only  you  must  not  follow  her  enthu- 
siastic footsteps  in  the  direction  of  Guilds,  Settle- 

IL 

ments  and  Improvement  Clubs.    Marion  is  some- 


96  Dainty  Devils. 

thing  of  an  extremist,  Dot,  and  altogether  too  un- 
commonly good  for  this  world.  She  must  have 
a  wonderful  constitution,  for  she  keeps  up  with 
the  giddy  people  at  the  same  time.  Her  mother's 
a  jewel.  When  I  was  a  little  boy  I  intended  to 
marry  her  as  soon  as  I  was  old  enough." 

"  Because,"  I  said,  rather  nonsensically  an- 
noyed, "  you  believed  she  wasn't  too  good  for  this 
world?  Did  you  marry  me  because  I  was  so 
wicked  ?  " 

"  You  little  goose !  Don't  you  know  you're  an 
angel?  Only  you  are  a  healthy,  comfortable 
sort  of  a  one.  And  Marion — well,  let  me  remind 
you  of  what  I  said  at  the  beginning,  despite  her 
beauty  and  excellence,  she  is  not  my  type.  She 
is  too  full  of  ideals,  and  she  will  never  conde- 
scend to  love  a  mortal  man." 

"  It  was  her  mother  you  said  you  used  to 
think  of  marrying." 

"  Yes,  Dot,  until  I  was  thirteen,  when  the  late 
Mr.  LaGrange  made  her  his  wife.  Still  jeal- 
ous?" 

"  I  never  was  jealous,"  I  exclaimed,  with  a 
vehemence  born  of  guilt,  "  and  as  for  Miss  La- 
Grange — " 

"Well,  Dot?" 

"  Oh,  nothing." 

I  was  mentally  coupling  "  Ideals  "  with  the 


November.  97 

chap  who  talked  Boston-bull-terriers  to  Lou  Alli- 
son. 


I  possess  cases  and  trunks  full  of  magnifi- 
cent silver  things  that  Burton  appreciated  enough 
to  use  in  lavish  profusion  at  the  dinner  last  night. 
For  my  part  I  wish  he  had  left  them  in  their 
cases,  for  they  came  to  the  table  in  the  hue  of 
lead.  Mrs.  Blackwell  may  appear  very  elegant, 
very  spick-and-span  and  all  that,  but  I  do  not 
consider  her  at  all  above  reproach  in  the  manner 
in  which  she  keeps  this  house.  I  have  often 
longed  to  speak  to  her  about  dust  in  the  corners 
of  the  stairs  and  in  the  draperies,  and  I  confess 
that  the  woman's  manner  invariably  overawed  me 
at  the  last  moment.  I  have  mentally  retreated 
from  my  belligerent  position,  indignant  at  my 
own  timidity,  while  basely  yielding  to  its  de- 
mands. 

However,  the  dinner  settled  me.  What  is  the 
earthly  use  of  having  silver  if  it  is  not  kept 
clean?  I  never  could  understand  why  Blackwell 
keeps  ten  servants  to  do  the  work  of  this  house. 
So  far  as  I  can  see,  half  of  them  do  noth- 
ing but  stand  idly  about  while  the  house  is 
dirty  enough  to  cause  social  ostracism  in  Gray- 
town.  I  deliberated  well  how  I  would  go  about 
the  silver  business.  Again  I  am  humiliated  by 

7 


98  Dainty  Devils. 

being  forced  to  admit  that  once  more  my  heart 
quailed  before  the  image  of  Blackwell.  I  weakly 
determined  to  speak  to  Burton,  the  butler,  and  I 
decided  to  make  my  complaint  while  I  was  alone 
at  luncheon. 

"  Burton,"  I  began,  as  soon  as  I  had  eaten 
a  few  mouthfuls. 

The  man  turned  and  faced  me,  wooden  as  the 
wall. 

I  coughed.  He  waited  in  his  aggravating  im- 
movability. 

"  Burton."  The  words  collapsed  before  this 
appalling  figure  of  competent  butlerhood.  "  Some 
bread,"  I  said,  mildly. 

The  bread  was  presented  to  me.  Let  me  re- 
mark, in  passing,  that  Burton  only  presents 
things.  The  man  Crosson  takes  up  the  soiled 
plates,  and  a  maid  hands  the  things  from  the 
pantry.  I  wondered  whether  Crosson  had  the 
cleaning  of  the  silver  upon  his  shoulders.  Should 
I  speak  to  him?  He  was  much  younger  and 
meeker,  and  less  imposing  than  Burton. 

"  Crosson,"  I  began.  Then  Burton,  who  had 
left  the  room  for  an  instant,  reappeared.  "  Oh, 
never  mind,  I  was  about  to  send  you  for  Bur- 
ton." 

Burton  came  to  my  elbow.  I  had  finished  my 
luncheon  and  wanted  nothing.  The  man  stood 
expecting  an  order. 


November.  99 

"  Take  up  the  plates  !  "  I  said,  sharply. 

Burton  stepped  back,  stiffer,  more  wooden, 
more  hateful  than  ever.  He  did  not  utter  a 
word  to  Crosson.  He  merely  made  a  slight  ges- 
ture with  the  air  of  an  emperor — a  most  fitting 
stage-emperor — and  retired  in  dignified  disgust 
behind  my  chair.  I  had  made  a  break,  which 
Burton  would  rehearse  to  the  housekeeper. 
Upon  the  dessert  plate  which  Crosson  put  before 
me  lay  a  dull  spoon  and  a  dingy  fork,  silent  wit- 
nesses that  so  far  I  had  made  no  advance  in  the 
intended  reform. 

I  ate  in  a  sort  of  rage. 

The  coffee  having  been  served,  I  gave  Burton 
the  nod  which  meant  that  he  and  Crosson  might 
retire. 

I  sat  sipping  my  coffee  and  thinking  rather  less 
happily  than  usual.  From  the  silver  my  thoughts 
had  strayed  to  my  guests  of  the  previous  night: 
Lou,  Percy  Earle,  Marion  LaGrange.  Lou's 
animated  frivolity  and  subtly  fascinating  face; 
Percy  Earle's  absorbing  interest  in  every  word 
she  breathed ;  Mr.  Allison's  stoical  calm  and  stud- 
ied propriety,  and  Marion's  beautiful  eyes  and 
sweet  young  mouth  under  the  shadow  of  some 
silent  trouble.  What  a  charm  the  girl  possessed, 
and  how  clever  she  was !  But  Lou  was  also 
clever.  Yes,  clever  enough  to  understand  every 
bit  of  the  harm  she  was  doing.  And  what  ailed 


ioo  Dainty-  Devils. 

Allison?  Was  he  made  of  wood  or  lead?  Lead 
brought  my  mind  back  to  the  remissness  of  my 
servants  in  caring  for  the  silver.  Looking  men- 
acingly towards  the  pantry,  between  the  panels 
of  the  screen  I  caught  sight  of  Maria,  the  parlor- 
maid. She  washed  the  dishes — probably  she  pol- 
ished, or  did  not  polish,  the  silver. 

"  Maria,"  I  said,  in  my  ordinary  tone. 

The  girl  fairly  jumped.  True,  I  had  never 
before  spoken  to  her,  yet  I  had  not  fancied  my 
voice  could  be  so  alarming. 

"  Yes,  Madam,"  she  said,  appearing  upon  my 
side  of  the  screen. 

"  I  think  you  have  charge  of  the  silver,  and 
I  wish  to  say  that  it  is  very  dirty,  and  must  be 
properly  cleaned  to-day." 

Maria  opened  her  mouth  and  gasped,  saying 
not  a  word. 

I  rose  and  left  the  room. 

About  four  o'clock,  as  I  was  ready  to  go  out, 
the  housekeeper  knocked  upon  the  boudoir  door. 
I  thought  it  was  Crosson  to  say  that  the  carriage 
was  waiting,  and  I  did  not  turn. 

"  Yes,  Crosson,"  I  said. 

"  It  is  I,  Madam,"  answered  Mrs.  Blackwell's 
voice. 

At  that  I  turned  in  amazement.  Except  for 
the  official  visit  to  me  every  morning  at  ten,  I 
never  saw  Blackwell. 


November.  101 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  "  I  asked. 

The  question  was  superfluous ;  her  visage  in- 
dicated as  much  trouble  as  anyone  would  care  to 
encounter  upon  a  single  occasion. 

"  I  never  before  found  it  necessary  to  come 
to  a  lady  upon  such  a  subject,"  she  began,  in 
her  even,  metallic  tones,  "  and  I'm  sorry  that  so 
much  unpleasantness  has  occurred.  Maria  feels 
so  bad,  and  has  cried  all  the  afternoon ;  she  can't 
get  over  it  to  be  spoken  to  so  sharply  by  a  lady, 
which  never  in  her  life  happened  to  her  before. 
Allow  me  to  say,  Madam,  that  ladies  leave  the 
correction  of  their  servants  to  their  housekeep- 
ers." 

"  Have  you  quite  finished  ?  "  I  asked,  my  knees 
shaking  and  my  hands  growing  cold. 

"  Only  to  say,  Madam,  that  I  can  not  pos- 
sibly manage  the  servants,  if  you  make  it  a  prac- 
tice to  interfere." 

Blackwell  is  very  tall,  and  I  felt,  in  spite  of 
intense  anger  at  her  insolence,  wofully  small 
and  helpless  before  her.  With  a  supreme  effort 
I  gathered  myself  together,  determined  to  crush 
her. 

"  You  and  Maria,  both,  may  leave  this  after- 
noon. I  have  yet  to  engage  anyone  to  give  direc- 
tions to  me.  You  have  made  a  mistake." 

Instantly  the  woman  changed.  Her  cold,  se- 
vere face  coarsened  with  common  impudence. 


102  Dainty  Devils. 

"  I'll  see  Mr.  Woodward  first,"  she  said,  sneer- 
ingly ;  "  he  knows  better  than  to  discharge  a  good 
housekeeper." 

"  You  will  pack  and  be  ready  to  leave  the 
house  at  six — you  and  Maria — I  will  pay  you 
if  Mr.  Woodward  has  not  returned  before  then." 

Blackwell  did  not  budge. 

"  Leave  my  room,  if  you  please." 

She  went,  muttering.  Very  dignified  and  com- 
manding, I  rang  for  Crosson  to  send  the  car- 
riage away.  Crosson  gone,  I  took  off  my  hat 
and  jacket,  and  throwing  myself  upon  the  couch, 
burst  into  tears.  Pride  had  enabled  me  to  keep 
up  appearances  until  I  was  alone,  then  this  first 
housekeeping  cloud  settled  upon  me  with  incred- 
ible weight  and  darkness,  and,  like  a  hurt  child, 
I  longed  desperately  for  Jack's  return,  to  be  com- 
miserated in  my  trouble,  and  petted  into  forget- 
fulness  of  my  deeply- wounded  dignity.  How  dif- 
ferent were  Lame  Ann's  affectionate  familiarity 
and  innocent  defiance,  from  the  calculated  dis- 
respect of  a  "  trained  "  New  York  servant !  I 
sobbed  violently,  in  a  vortex  of  temper,  pride 
and  homesickness.  It  was  all  too  much  for  me, 
the  people,  the  habits,  the  formality,  and  the  very 
servants  in  my  house.  At  last  I  calmed  down 
into  a  day-dream  of  leaving  all  this  worry  of 
things,  and  going  with  Jack  to  Graytown,  to  live 
in  the  house  about  which  he  had  had  the  law- 


November.  103 

suit.  It  was  a  jolly  law-suit,  because  it  had 
brought  Jack  to  Graytown  and  to  me.  Besides, 
Jack  had  won. 

I  sprang  up  as  I  heard  Jack's  voice  in  the 
hall,  and  flew  to  him. 

"  Oh,  Jack  dear,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come !  " 

"  Glad !  And  with  wet  eyes  ?  What  is  the 
trouble,  darling?  " 

"  No  trouble — I  shall  not  admit  it  is  trouble. 
I  have  only  discharged  Blackwell  and  one  of  the 
maids." 

Jack  whistled.  He  went  into  the  boudoir  with 
me  without  speaking,  and  we  sat  down  side-by- 
side  upon  the  divan. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,  Dot.  Has  she  gone  ? — 
Blackwell,  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Not  yet ;  I  gave  them  till  six." 

Growing  constantly  more  dramatic  and 
warmed  up  to  my  subject,  I  vividly  rehearsed 
the  Blackwell  scene  for  Jack.  He  turned  grati- 
fyingly  red  when  I  repeated  Blackwell's  imper- 
tinent utterances,  and  said,  "  The  wretch !  "  under 
his  breath. 

"  Yes,"  I  concluded,  "  she  is  indeed  a  wretch. 
I  should  never  have  believed,  Jack,  that  any  one 
could  dare  speak  so." 

"  Of  course,  dear,  she  must  go,  unless  she 
humbly  apologizes,  which  I  am  sure  she  will  do 
before  six  o'clock.  She  is  an  exceptionally  clever 


104  Dainty  Devils. 

woman,  and  it  would  be  unfortunate  for  my  little 
wife  if  she  had  to  look  for  another."  Jack  spoke 
slowly  and  judicially. 

"  You  won't  let  her  stay  ?  "  I  exclaimed,  both 
hurt  and  astonished. 

"  Not  unless  you  consent  to  accept  her  apology. 
The  trouble  is,  Dot,  you  don't  know  the  condi- 
tions here.  I  heard  a  young  chap  this  very  day 
fairly  wailing  over  his  domestic  troubles.  He 
said  his  wife  was  ill  in  bed,  and  their  two  serv- 
ants had  run  away  before  breakfast.  The  poor 
boy  blamed  the  very  rich,  who  can  hire  serv- 
ants by  the  dozen  and  pay  double  the  money 
which  the  thousands  of  others  can  afford.  I 
hear  tales  every  day,  Dot,  of  people  who  can  not 
keep  servants  for  more  than  a  week  at  a  time, 
and  who  put  up  with  anything  if  they  can  only 
get  some  one  to  come  to  them." 

"  I  don't  see  what  all  this  has  to  do  with  Black- 
well  !  "  I  said,  rising  and  going  away  from  Jack. 

"  Simply  this,  dear.  Good  servants  are  pain- 
fully rare  at  the  present  time,  and  changing  is 
a  dangerous  experiment.  Most  of  them  are  lazy, 
impertinent  and  unreasonable." 

"  It  can  only  be  the  fault  of  those  who  employ 
them,"  I  said,  emphatically.  "  Father  often  told 
me  that  as  a  rule  people  obtain  the  treatment 
they  merit." 

"  True,  Dot.     The  present  conditions  are  the 


November.  105 

result  of  the  indolence  and  indifference  of  the 
women  who  will  not  bother  about  their  houses. 
Now,  listen,  dear :  I  admit  that  Blackwell  is  often 
neglectful,  and  I  admire  you  for  noticing  when 
the  silver  is  dingy ;  however,  you  made  a  tech- 
nical mistake.  When  things  weren't  up  to  the 
standard,  it  was  my  mother's  rule  to  speak  to  the 
housekeeper,  unless  the  fault  was  to  be  found 
about  the  service  of  the  meals,  when  she  called 
Burton  to  account.  Be  as  particular  and  exact- 
ing as  you  can,  Dot;  only  when  fault  is  to  be 
found,  either  Blackwell  or  Burton  must  be  the 
recipient  of  your  wrath." 

I  tapped  my  foot  upon  the  wood  floor. 

"  Why  are  you  angry  with  me,  Dot  ?" 

"  You  admit  tacitly  that  you  are  afraid  of  your 
servants." 

It  is  well  that  Jack  is  not  quick  tempered,  for 
I  know  I  was  exasperating  as  well  as  exasper- 
ated. 

"  I'm  afraid  of  little  Dot  suddenly  taking  upon 
her  untrained  shoulders  the  responsibility  of  this 
household.  Believe  me,  darling,  you  have  no 
idea  of  the  care  and  detail.  Before  my  mother 
had  Blackwell,  she  had  a  string  of  incompetent 
women  as  housekeepers.  Chaos  reigned  and 
waste  was  everywhere.  I  am  positive  that  Black- 
well  will  come  with  an  apology.  No  doubt  your 
display  of  spunkiness  did  her  good.  Can  you 


io6  Dainty  Devils. 

not  make  up  your  mind  to  accept  her  contrition, 
and  content  yourself  with  being  mercilessly 
strict  in  the  future  ?" 

I  was  neither  pleased  nor  convinced. 

"  Jack,  the  independence  ought  to  be  on  the 
side  of  those  who  do  the  employing  and  there- 
fore hold  the  power." 

"It  ought?  Well,  my  tiny  philosopher,  it's 
not  now,  and  never  will  be  till  those  who  do  the 
employing  unite  in  exacting  honest  work  for 
the  wages  paid." 

"  A  Labor  Union !"  I  cried,  brightening. 
"  No,  not  a  Labor  Union,  rather  an  '  Employers  ' 
Union.  Wouldn't  it  change  things,  Jack,  if  the 
wealthy  women  '  struck '  ?  Think  of  the  hun- 
dreds who  would  have  to  come  to  terms !  I  will 
join  at  once." 

Jack  laughed. 

"  Your  idea  isn't  half  bad,  and  it  is  certainly 
practicable.  It  is  the  old  truth,  Dot,  '  In  union 
there  is  strength.'  In  the  meantime — " 

A  delicate  knock  interrupted  us. 

"  Blackwell !"  murmured  Jack.  "  I  shall  with- 
draw." 

I  settled  myself  in  state  in  a  large  chair,  know- 
ing that  I  always  appear  a  good  deal  taller  sit- 
ting down.  My  self-complacency  suffered  a  jar 
as  I  caught  sight  of  my  red  eyes  in  a  mirror. 
Blackwell  would  have  the  satisfaction  of  know- 


November.  107 

ing  that  I  had  wept,  in  addition  to  the  fact  that 
she  had  spoilt  my  drive.  Once  more  my  blood 
began  to  boil. 

"  Come  in,"  I  said,  in  a  severe  tone. 

To  my  surprise,  the  woman  had  been  crying. 
She  held  a  damp,  limp  handkerchief  between  her 
clasped  hands,  and  her  inflamed  eyes  and  nose 
put  mine  completely  into  the  shade. 

"Well?"  I  asked,  shortly. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Madam,  that  I  forgot  myself,  and 
I  hope  you'll  reconsider  my  leaving.  I'd  not  have 
spoken  so,  only  the  servants  have  been  so  trying 
of  late,  and  I  was  all  tuckered  out  by  Maria's 
goings-on  this  afternoon.  You  can't  know, 
Madam,  what  a  life  it  is  with  their  carelessness 
and  tantrums  and  jealousies  of  one  another." 

Blackwell  sniffled.  My  heart  softened,  and  my 
figure  relaxed  a  trifle  from  its  indignant  rigidity. 

"  You  can  stay  if  you  want  to,"  I  said,  quite 
mildly.  "  As  for  Maria,  pay  her  and  let  her 

go." 

"  She's  leaving,  Madam,  saying  she  wouldn't 
stay  anywhere  that  she  was  found  fault  with  in 
the  dining-room.  I'd  like  to  stay,  Madam,  thank 
you." 

An  inspiration  came  to  me.  I  might  never 
again  have  Blackwell  in  this  meekly-obedient 
attitude. 

"  Very  well.     But  probably  you  ought  to  make 


io8  Dainty  Devils. 

more  changes  than  merely  Maria.  I  am  not  at 
all  satisfied  with  the  neatness  of  the  house." 

The  woman  looked  up,  almost  alarmed. 

"  I'll  do  my  best,"  she  said,  "  and  I  am  glad 
to  know  I've  a  Madam  who  notices  things,  and 
appreciates  when  they're  clean." 

"  You  may  be  quite  sure  of  that." 

My  erstwhile  ogress  bowed  and  retired. 

Jack  rushed  in  before  Blackwell  had  well  gone. 
I  hope  she  did  not  hear  him  kiss  me. 

"  Good  little  Dot !  You've  won  the  day.  Black- 
well  will  hereafter  toe  the  mark.  Wait  and  see !" 

I  am  waiting.  Recalling  the  haughtiness  of 
Maria  O'Flaherty  I  marvel  where  these  Irish 
girls  get  it.  All  the  von  Waldecks  rolled  into 
one,  could  not  approach  Maria,  as  I  addressed  her 
after  luncheon.  Finally  I  put  the  question  to 
Jack. 

"  What  is  it  that  makes  an  Irish  peasant  so  im- 
periously self-assured  ?" 

"  Conceit,  darling ;  it  is  always  an  exact  equa- 
tion of  existent  ignorance.  It  was  Maria's 
stupidity  that  prevented  her  from  appreciating 
the  situation  to-day.  A  clever  person,  princess 
or  slave,  is  never  disrespectful.  Insolence  is  the 
usual  accompaniment  of  brutal  stupidity." 

"  For  which,"  I  added,  gravely,  "  there  is  no 
cure  this  side  of  the  grave.  Thank  you,  Herr 
Professor." 


DECEMBER. 

JACK  says  he  believes  I  am  flying  headlong  into 
one  of  those  insanely  intense  f  rienships  of  which 
women  are  occasionally  guilty,  and  which  com- 
monly end  in  disaster.  He  has  cautioned  me 
against  having  my  photograph  taken  with  Marion 
LaGrange's  head  against  mine,  for  he  asserts 
that  in  every  instance  under  his  observation,  that 
act  has  been  the  beginning  of  the  end.  I  admit 
that  I  had  contemplated  one  of  those  pictures, 
because  it  would  certainly  be  effective  for  Marion 
to  have  blonde  me  against  her  fine  dark  hair 
and  eyes.  Jack's  words,  my  protestations  to 
the  contrary,  have  unduly  influenced  me,  and  I 
have  gone  no  farther  than  trying  the  effect  in 
the  mirror.  It  was  truly  very  pretty. 

I  know  I  am  very  earthy,  and  had  I  never 
before  realized  my  limitations,  Marion  would  have 
brought  them  home  to  me.  She  has  made  a 
rule  for  herself  that  one  half  of  her  time  shall 
belong  to  what  she  calls  "  Works  of  Charity", 
which  works  include  all  kinds  of  heroic  occu- 
pations. She  does  not  tell  me  much,  save  at 
times  when  I  try  to  make  an  engagement  with 

109 


no  Dainty  Devils. 

her,  when  she  murmurs :  "  Those  hours  are  al- 
ready devoted  to  something  else."  I  have  found 
out  that  she  visits  a  woman  with  a  cancer  every 
forenoon  except  Sundays ;  that  she  has  a  "  Chris- 
tian Doctrine  Class "  for  adults  every  Friday 
night ;  that  she  gives  "  Talks  "  at  the  Settlement 
three  afternoons  a  week,  and  I  know  she  teaches 
twice  each  Sunday  at  the  Mission.  I  wouldn't 
even  say  positively  that  she  does  not  do  more. 
Mrs.  LaGrange  worries  a  bit,  I  fancy,  although 
she  has  never  complained,  except  one  afternoon 
shf  hnB  nn'fr  frunplnined,  save  one  afternoon 
that  I  rushed  to  Marion's  to  get  her  to  go  some- 
where with  me,  when  Jack  at  the  last  minute 
could  not. 

"  Marion  is  out,  Mrs.  Woodward ;  at  the  Mis- 
sion again,"  said  the  dear,  beautiful  mother,  sigh- 
ing a  trifle. 

I  was  quite  tired  out  from  hurrying,  and 
greatly  disappointed. 

"  Doesn't  Marion  attempt  too  much,  Mrs.  La- 
Grange  ?  "  I  asked,  rather  snappishly.  Mrs.  La- 
Grange  took  my  hand  and  patted  it. 

"  I  hope  not ;  she  is  very  strong." 

That  evening  I  met  Marion,  and  started  to 
expostulate  with  her.  She  looked  at  me  in  her 
bright  way,  and  laughed  softly. 

"  Strange,  Dot,"  she  said,  "  but  you  make  me 
feel  like  your  mother.  Were  you  awfully  cross 
this  afternoon?" 


December.  in 

I  concluded  that  upon  the  "  Works  of  Charity  " 
question  we  might  get  into  trouble,  and  changed 
the  subject.  I  love  her  dearly,  and  admire  her 
zealous  work,  if  only  it  did  not  make  her  look 
so  preoccupied  and  set  apart !  She  never  seems 
thoroughly  interested  in  the  scenes  about  her, 
except  when  Percy  Earle  is  present.  My  first 
suspicions  are  being  fully  confirmed.  Let  Mr. 
Earle  enter  the  room,  and  I  firmly  believe  that 
Marion  forgets  every  work  of  charity  which  was 
ever  performed  since  the  world  began.  He  has 
known  her  since  she  was  born,  and  either  does 
not  notice  her  at  all  or  treats  her  as  might  a 
rather  polite  brother.  I  get  angry  and  jealous, 
while  I  try  in  all  possible  ways  to  have  them  see 
each  other  often. 

We  have  an  Opera-box  every  Wednesday 
night — unspeakable  treat  for  one  who  was 
brought  up  with  the  Glee  Club  as  the  acme  of 
musical  dissipation !  There  was  quite  a 
lengthy  argument  before  Jack  and  I  made  up 
the  party  for  the  initial  Opera.  My  first  clamor 
was  for  Marion,  and  Jack  said  I  could  not  in 
decency  leave  out  Lou  and  Belle  the  first  night. 
Well,  I  should  have  to  ask  them.  As  for  men, 
Mr.  Allison,  of  course,  and — I  paused ;  I  must 
ask  Percy  Earle  for  Marion.  As  I  hesitated, 
meditating  that  Lou  would  be  present,  Jack  him- 
self suggested  Percy.  I  agreed  at  once,  then 


ii2  Dainty  Devils. 

remembered  that  there  would  be  four  women 
and  three  men.  Jack  did  not  see  the  difference 
that  made. 

"  You're  going  to  the  Opera,  not  a  dance,"  he 
said.  "  Besides,  lots  of  men  will  be  floating  in 
to  call  upon  you." 

After  some  argument,  Jack  proposed  the  Rob- 
ertsons. 

"  Another  man,  indeed,  Jack,  but  another 
woman,  too." 

Jack  groaned. 

"  How  you  women  love  each  other !"  he  said, 
provokingly. 

I  maintained  an  injured  silence. 

"  Ask  a  dozen  more  men,  Dot,  if  you  find  them 
so  amusing,"  he  continued,  seeming  to  enjoy  my 
displeasure ;  "  only  if  I  were  you,  I  should  first 
ask  the  ones  we  have  proposed,  and  see  who 
declines." 

"  It  will  surely  be  a  man,"  I  said,  gloomily ; 
"  perhaps  Mr.  Allison  won't  go." 

"Why  not?" 

I  did  not  know  why  not,  and  said  nothing — 
at  least  I  could  not  explain  lucidly. 

Belle  St.  John  was  the  one  who  declined,  to 
my  vast  satisfaction.  We  would  be  a  comfort- 
able six,  J  reflected,  without  one  lonely  extra 
woman  to  upset  the  social  symmetry. 

As  things  came  about,  we  were  a  most  un- 


December.  113 

comfortable  six.  Mr.  Allison  was  impartially 
nice  to  Marion  and  to  me;  so  was  Jack.  Percy 
Earle,  whom  I  invited  only  for  Marion's  sake, 
paid  no  attention  to  her  whatever ;  instead  he  sat 
at  the  back  of  the  box,  and  leaned  devotedly 
on  the  top  of  Lou's  chair.  Both  completely 
ignored  the  music,  and  kept  up  a  constant  con- 
versation in  under-tones,  while  Marion  listened 
religiously  to  the  singing  of  Faust  and  Margue- 
rite, and  grew  steadily  more  listless  and  more  the 
exact  match  of  her  dead-white  gown.  I  could 
have  been  rioutously  happy  in  the  entre  acte  which 
brought  five  of  Jack's  nicest  men-friends  to  pay 
me  their  compliments,  if  Marion's  dejected  fig- 
ure, (her  elbow  on  the  rail  of  the  box,  and  her 
chin  abstractedly  sunk  into  her  palm,)  had  not 
reproached  me  every  time  I  laughed.  Percy 
Earle  stood  up  to  greet  the  men,  all  of  whom  he 
of  course  knew.  When  standing  he  kept  close 
to  Lou.  I  think  Marion  makes  a  bad  mistake 
in  moping  so  steadily.  I  am  sure  I  should  not ; 
if  Jack  had  liked  some  other  girl  in  Graytown 
better  than  me,  I  would  have  pretended  not  to 
care  a  rap  for  him,  and  would  have  laughed  and 
talked  with  other  people,  though  I  strangled  in 
the  attempt. 

Not  that  I  mean  Percy  is  aware  Marion  is 
unhappy  over  him — not  in  the  least.     The  simple- 
ton is  deaf  and  blind  so  far  as  Marion  is  con- 
8 


H4  Dainty  Devils. 

earned.  As  for  Lou,  while  I  feel  in  conscience 
bound  to  despise  her,  alas,  I  cannot !  She  struck 
me  last  night  as  very  much  like  sin,  which  we 
ought  to  hate  and  do,  at  our  prayers,  to  greet  it 
lovingly  whenever  temptation  is  strong.  Lou 
is  so  winningly  pretty — such  a  terribly  attrac- 
tive, dainty  sort  of  a  devil ! 

Mr.  Allison  amazes  me.  Surely  he  sees  how 
Lou  is  carrying  on,  and  apparently  he  is  indif- 
ferent. Oh,  I  hope  Jack  would  be  raving  jealous 
if  I  ever  gave  him  an  excuse ! 

The  women  at  the  Opera  wore  the  same  kind 
of  gowns  as  did  my  dinner-guests.  I  should 
like  to  get  the  opinion  of  some  bright  boy  of 
fourteen  or  fifteen  upon  them ;  it  would  doubt- 
less be  impartial  and  original.  I  know  this 
much  :  if  I  were  a  boy  growing  up,  I  should  never 
respect  my  mother  if  she  went  out  in  such  clothes. 
Fancy  if  lightning  or  something  struck  this 
Metropolitan  Opera  House,  and  all  these  grin- 
ning, scheming,  shockingly-dressed  women  sud- 
denly sat  stark  and  stiff!  What  ghastly  judg- 
ment— to  die  in  those  outrageous  bodices  and 
shoulder  straps ! 

At  about  the  middle  of  the  second  act,  there 
was  a  stir  in  the  box  next  to  ours — Mrs.  Van 
Voort's.  She  had  the  Robertsons  and  a  couple  of 
English  girls  as  her  guests.  The  English  girls 
were  nice,  slim,  blonde  things,  speaking  in  melo- 


December.  115 

dious  voices,  and  gowned  in  extreme  simplicity. 
Mrs.  Robertson  looked  stouter  and  uglier  and 
redder  than  usual,  in  a  sky-blue  panne  velvet  cos- 
tume. She  stood  out  in  unpleasant  prominence  by 
reason  of  the  young  girls  who  sat  on  each  side  of 
her.  Her  husband,  a  quiet,  stern  man  of  fifty, 
very  Scotch  and  very  proper,  was  almost  invisible 
from  his  chair  back  of  her.  The  Van  Voorts 
are  a  young,  giddy  pair,  quite  devoid  of  intellect, 
contemptuously  rich,  and  bound  up  body  and 
soul  in  "  having  a  good  time."  Belle  St.  John 
is  the  almost  constant  companion  of  Mrs.  Rob- 
ertson, while  Mrs.  Van  Voort  frequently  fills 
out  the  triangle.  All  the  party  left  before  the 
last  act,  probably  not  finding  much  of  a  good 
time  in  seeing  Marguerite  die.  Lou  Allison  and 
Percy  Earle  had  spent  one  entre  acte  with  the 
Van  Voorts.  There  had  been  lots  of  laughter, 
and  rather  loud  talking  until  the  lights  went  down 
again ;  and  Mr.  Robertson,  who  sat  prim  and  stiff 
while  the  rest  were  in  the  little  ante-room,  very 
audibly  commanded  his  wife  to  come  back  to 
her  place  and  listen  to  the  music. 

Lou  returned  looking  rather  flushed,  and  slip- 
ped quickly  into  her  seat.  A  moment  later,  she 
leaned  back  and  resumed  her  mumbling  with 
Percy.  I  think  Mr.  Allison  fidgeted  a  little. 
Jack  was  frowning,  and  once  I  saw  portending 
temper  in  his  face.  Jack  loves  music,  and  that 


n6  Dainty  Devils. 

disturbing  whisper  was  too  irritating  even  for 
his  colossal  patience.  I  vowed  to  myself  that 
never  again  would  I  invite  Lou  to  my  box ;  this 
first  vow  was  followed  by  a  second :  In  the 
morning  I  would  see  Lou  Allison,  and  tell  her 
plainly  how  wicked  and  cruel  she  was. 

Mr.  Allison  put  on  Marion's  wrap,  and  I  heard 
him  exclaim  at  her  pallor.  She  laughed  and  said 
she  was  ridiculously  well.  Meanwhile  tears  were 
in  her  eyes. 

Mr.  Allison's  manner  as  he  spoke  to  her,  was 
a  surprise  to  me.  All  along  I  have  been  quite 
under  the  impression  that  he,  so  matter-of-fact 
and  even,  must  upon  general  principles  disap- 
prove of  idealistic,  unworldly  Marion.  Stand- 
ing there  fastening  her  cloak,  he  might  have 
been  a  very  venerable  father,  gravely  solicitous 
for  a  young  child's  health.  He  is  only  six  years 
older  than  Marion,  and  I  marveled  that  he  could 
seem  so  far  removed  from  men  of  his  own  age, 
who  would  approach  the  girl  as  admirers  or 
lovers.  "  How  unfortunate  that  such  a  man  has 
no  children !  "  I  found  myself  thinking ;  and  I 
laughed  irrelevantly,  at  the  immediately  answer- 
ing thought,  "  What  would  Lou  do  with  a 
child?"  -The  hideousness  of  calling  a  widow's 
children  "  encumbrances "  would  be  nothing 
against  the  actual  fact  of  what  fearfully  great 
encumbrances  Lou's  possible  children  would  be. 


December.  117 

Unfortunate  little  beggars !  They  would  most 
probably  not  have  even  a  Lame  Ann. 

Jack  catching  sight  of  poor  Marion's  dewy 
eyes  as  Mr.  Allison  considerately  turned  away, 
slightly  frowned. 

"  What  a  pity,"  murmured  he  to  me,  "  that 
Marion  lets  the  unreality  of  an  Opera  affect  her 
so  much,  and  is  hopelessly  cold  to  the  actual  hu- 
manity about  her !  " 

Oh,  Jack !  And  still  I  know  he  is  awfully 
clever. 

We  had  the  bus  take  us  to  Sherry's  after  the 
Opera  for  supper,  and  were  joined  there  by 
the  Layton  party  of  eight,  consisting  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Layton,  three  debutantes,  and  three  beard- 
less boys.  The  full  grown  young  women  of 
eighteen  or  nineteen  seemed  immensely  enter- 
tained by  their  youthful  cavaliers,  who,  being 
all  between  seventeen  and  eighteen,  were  about 
on  a  par  with  girls  of  twelve  or  thirteen.  If 
giggling  be  a  safe  indication,  the  six  young  peo- 
ple were  perfectly  satisfied.  About  every  sen- 
tence the  boys  uttered  contained  a  "  Yale  man  " 
or  a  "  Harvard  man  ",  or  a  "  Princeton  man  ", 
so  I  was  forced  to  conclude  that  the  very  word 
"  man  "  was  delicious  to  the  children's  tongues. 

A  ludicrous  picture  flitted  through  Sherry's, 
a  kind  of  a  mirage,  of  Lame  Ann  thrashing  a 


n8  Dainty  Devils. 

boy,  fully  as  old  and  a  great  deal  bigger  than  any 
of  these,  because  he  had  drowned  my  pet  kitten. 

I  suppose  starting  out  with  the  attentions  of 
lads,  leads  to  marriages  like  Lou's.  Fancy! 
When  Lou  came  out  into  society,  Arnold  Allison 
was  a  child  of  fourteen.  And  now  he  is  her  hus- 
band. It  is  nauseating!  I  am  so  glad  I  mar- 
ried a  big,  strong  man,  lots  older  and  cleverer 
and  wiser  than  I.  How  can  a  woman  expect  to 
be  shielded  and  petted  and  waited  upon,  when 
she  is  the  much  better  man  of  the  two  ?  Shakes- 
peare was  right,  as  ever,  when  he  made  the  Duke 
in  Twelfth  Night  tell  Viola,  "  Let  still  the 
woman  take  an  elder  than  herself,  .  .  .  .For 
women  are  as  roses,  whose  fair  flower,  being 
once  displayed,  doth  fall  that  very  hour." 

I  am  eighteen  and  Jack  is  thirty-five.  I  hardly 
think  I  shall  fade  so  fast  as  to  catch  up  to  him. 

I  admit  that  Lou  is  exceptional.  More  is  the 
pity!  She  does  not  look  so  very  much  older 
than  Marion  LaGrange;  and  I  am  not  so  dull 
but  that  I  can  understand  that  for  the  woman  of 
thirty  to  look  like  the  inexperienced  girl  of 
twenty,  makes  the  situation  a  perilous  one. 
Would  Percy  Earle  be  infatuated  with  a  faded, 
wrinkled-up  woman?  I  am  positive  he  would 
pass  her  by. 

The  Layton  party  infused  some  needed  vi- 
vacity into  ours.  I  do  not  mean  that  we  found 


December.  119 

either  the  giggling  or  the  conversation  about 
"  man  "  inspiring ;  only  that  some  kind  of  pride 
seemed  roused  in  Marion  after  the  addition  of 
these  people  to  our  party,  and  she  talked  ani- 
matedly for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  Percy  Earle, 
whether  brought  to  himself  by  Mrs.  Layton's 
sharp,  cold  eyes — she  is  his  sister — or  afraid  of 
a  later  outburst  from  her  sharp,  cold  tongue, 
left  Lou's  side  and  sat  dutifully  next  me. 
Truth  compels  me  to  state  that  Lou  sulked  visi- 
bly after  Percy  left  her.  Oh,  how  I  would  talk 
to  her  in  the  morning ! 

We  took  Marion  home  with  us,  I  having  ar- 
ranged with  Mrs.  LaGrange  to  keep  her  a  day 
or  two,  except  of  course,  when  she  would  be  out 
upon  her  "  Works  of  Charity." 

In  the  morning,  soon  after  breakfast,  my 
manner  no  doubt  somewhat  shadowed  by  painful 
self-consciousness,  I  told  Marion  I  was  going  to 
walk.  She  might  practice  while  I  was  away,  I 
added,  feeling  bound  to  provide  occupation  for 
a  guest.  Marion  serenely  checkmated  me  by  re- 
marking that  she  had  something  to  do,  and  I 
remembered  the  cancer  woman  and  how  super- 
fluous would  be  any  effort  to  keep  Marion  em- 
ployed. We  parted  affectionately,  and  I  hastened, 
still  tingling  with  indignation,  to  Allisons',  bent 
upon  telling  Lou  what  I  thought  of  her. 


I2O  Dainty  Devils. 

Unfortunately  she  was  out.  Would  I  see  Mrs. 
St.  John? 

Considering  that  Lou  might  return  directly, 
I  went  up  to  Belle's  room,  that  lady  having  sent 
word  that  she  could  not  receive  me  anywhere 
else.  I  found  her  in  bed,  her  hair  tousled,  her 
eyes  dull  and  sleepy  under  swollen  lids,  her 
prettiness  all  wanting. 

"  Morning !"  she  drawled,  from  the  pillows. 
"I'm  not  up  yet,  as  you  see.  Annie,"  (to  the 
servant  who  was  hastily  straightening  up  the 
room),  "let  things  alone  and  get  my  breakfast." 

"  Where  is  Lou  ?"  I  asked,  abruptly. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  Do  you  contemplate 
murdering  her,  or  what  ?  You  look  so  fierce !  I 
haven't  seen  Lou  since  before  dinner  last  night, 
so  as  Mrs.  Robertson  told  me  you  had  her  in 
your  box,  you  must  have  more  recent  news  than 
I.  I've  heard  all  about  your  levee ;  Mrs.  Robert- 
son said  you  looked  glorious,  and  were  fully  capa- 
ble of  flirting  with  half  a  dozen  men  at  a  time. 
Jack  will  have  more  than  he  bargained  for  in 
you,  I'm  thinking." 

Belle  could  no  longer  make  me  angry,  as  she 
did  six  or  seven  weeks  ago;  I  calmly  ignored 
her  remarks. 

"  Did  you  see  Mrs.  Robertson  so  late  last 
night  ?  She  left  the  Opera  before  the  last  act." 

"  I  saw  her  about  three  o'clock  this  morning, 


December.  121 

Dot.  Oh,  it  was  a  tight  little  game,  and  I  kept 
on  playing,  hoping  to  win.  I  wonder  what  time 
I  tumbled  into  bed?"  Belle  closed  her  eyes  for 
a  moment  as  though  earnestly  endeavoring  to 
calculate  at  what  hour  her  previous  day  had 
ended. 

"  Don't  you  know  ?"  I  asked,  astonished  in 
spite  of  myself. 

"  Haven't  the  slightest  idea.  I  sat  consider- 
ing ways  and  means  of  paying  my  debts,  until 
I  heard  the  milkman." 

"  Why  did  the  recollection  of  your  debts  sud- 
denly overwhelm  you  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
Belle?" 

Belle  yawned. 

"  Well,  you  see  I  wasn't  so  badly  off  the  first 
hour.  The  game  went  well  enough  at  first.  See 
here,  Dot,  lend  me  some  money,  won't  you?" 
There  was  an  unwonted  briskness  in  the  ques- 
tion. 

"  What  game  are  you  talking  about  ?  Lou 
said  you  were  engaged  for  a  card-party,  but — 
you  don't  mean  to  say — "  I  broke  off  miserably. 

"  Only  poker,  that's  all.  I  prefer  it  to  bridge. 
Ever  play?  Jolly  sport.  It's  the  only  thing 
which  keeps  me  from  suicide — Yes,  Annie,  right 
here." 

The  maid  had  returned  with  a  tray.  She  had 
coffee,  bread  and  butter  and  a  decanter  with 


122  Dainty  Devils. 

glasses.     Belle  picked  up  the  decanter,  and  fill- 
ing a  glass,  held  it  silently  out  to  me. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  I  stammered,  a  confused 
medley  of  Belle,  whiskey,  poker  and  debts  buzz- 
ing in  my  brain. 

Wasting  no  words,  Belle  put  the  glass  to  her 
lips  and  drained  it,  following  the  undiluted  stuff 
with  a  little  ice-water. 

•  "  What  makes  you  look  so  queer,  Dot  ?  It's 
nothing  but  innocent,  good  whiskey — an  appe- 
tizer." 

1  once  heard  Uncle  Dalton  say  that  the  shoe- 
maker in  Graytown  was  "  hopelessly  gone", 
because  he  drank  "  raw  whiskey  before  break- 
fast." 

"  You  don't  do  it  every  day,  do  you  ?"  I 
asked,  in  down-right  alarm. 

"  I  couldn't  eat  if  I  didn't,  and  you  wouldn't 
expect  me  to  exist  upon  air,  would  you?  Your 
expression  makes  me  weak,  Dot;  I  need  another 
bracer,  if  I  never  did  before." 

Again  the  glass  was  filled  and  emptied. 

"  I  suppose  you  will  tell  Jack  all  about  it," 
said  Belle,  beginning  to  eat,  "  but  you'd  better 
not,  because  you  don't  know  how  soon  you'll  have 
to  begin  yourself.  How  do  you  suppose  women 
stand  the  strain  of  a  winter  in  New  York? 
Why,  we  just  couldn't  if  we  didn't  help  our- 
selves along  with  a  bit  of  whiskey  or  sherry,  or 


December.  123 

creme  de  menthe  at  the  proper  moment.  I  went 
to  a  luncheon  and  five  teas  yesterday.  Then  a 
dinner,  and  lastly  our  poker  game.  That  re- 
minds me,  Dot,  can  you  lend  me  two  hundred? 
I  owe  it  to  Mrs.  Robertson,  and  she  needs  the 
money  to  pay  for  a  new  tea-gown.  The  dress- 
maker is  dunning  her  every  day,  and  Robertson 
is  as  mean  as  Moses — or  the  Scotch,  which, 
amounts  to  the  same  thing." 

"  I  never  knew  women  gambled,"  I  said  in- 
dignantly, "  especially  women  who  think  they  are 
ladies." 

"  Whew !  There  aren't  any  ladies  now-a-days, 
except  wash-ladies  and  scrub-ladies.  And,  judg- 
ing from  you,  angry  ladies." 

"  I'm  not  angry.  But  I  will  not  give  you 
money  for  gambling." 

Belle  put  back  the  dishes,  shook  the  pretty 
lace  ruffles  down  over  her  hands  and  leaned  back 
against  the  pillows. 

"  I  have  heard,"  she  said,  musically,  "  that 
the  Germans  are  as  stingy  as  the  Scotch." 

"  They  are  certainly  stingy  of  their  good 
names,"  I  returned,  with  considerable  anger,  "and 
respectable  women  do  not  get  themselves  into 
debt,  least  of  all  gambling  debt." 

"  Dear  me,  what  a  temper  you  have !  Dot, 
try  to  work  up  a  crumb  of  compassion  in  your 
tiny  personality,  won't  you  ?  I  need  two  hundred 


124  Dainty  Devils. 

dollars  awfully,  and  I  know  you  can  spare  it  if 
you  want  to." 

I  do  not  know  how  rudely  I  might  have 
answered  had  the  maid  not  again  appeared,  look- 
ing disrespectfully  cognizant  of  the  situation. 

"  Mrs.  Robertson  is  coming  up,"  she  an- 
nounced, exultingly.  "  I  tried  to  keep  her  down, 
but  she  said  she  had  to  see  you,  and  ordered  me 
real  sharply  to  get  out  of  her  way." 

"  You'll  excuse  me  under  the  circumstances," 
I  said,  coldly. 

"  Oh,  don't  go !"  cried  Belle,  starting  from  the 
pillows,  her  indolent  manner  changing  into  one 
of  acute  anxiety,  "  for  Heaven's  sake  don't ! 
She's  come  for  her  money,  Dot,  and  I  haven't 
it." 

"  That's  not  my  fault." 

"  It  is,"  exclaimed  Belle,  excitedly.  "  Say 
you'll  send  a  messenger  boy  with  a  check,  won't 
you?  I  shall  tell  her  that  I  will  pay  her  this 
afternoon." 

Mrs.  Robertson  was  sweeping  along  the  hall; 
Belle  dropped  back  upon  the  pillows,  and  hastily 
pushed  from  her  the  tray,  which  the  maid,  who 
had  heard  the  latter  part  of  the  conversation, 
carelessly  picked  up.  She  went  out  one  door  as 
the  caller  entered  the  other.  The  bow  and 
"  Good  morning,"  Mrs.  Robertson  bestowed  upon 
me  were  so  curt  that  I  longed  to  tell  her  she 


December.  125 

need  not  be  at  all  put  out,  as  for  my  part,  I 
could  not  get  away  too  soon.  Distantly  enough 
I  returned  her  salutation,  recollecting  that  this 
unrefined,  over-dressed  woman  had  spoken  of  me 
as  an  "  Upstart."  I  murmured  a  "  Good-bye  "  in- 
tended for  Belle  and  her  visitor,  and  was  hur- 
riedly leaving  when  Belle  called, 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  kiss  me  ?" 

Turning  back  in  surprise,  I  stooped  over  the 
bed,  dimly  conscious  that  Belle  had  been  rude 
to  me,  and  might  wish  to  atone  before  I  left. 

"  You'll  send  me  the  check,"  she  breathed  into 
my  ear,  holding  me  tightly  as  I  kissed  her. 

Disgust  overwhelmed  me.  I  stiffened  and 
pulled  myself  away.  How  easily  I  had  been 
flattered ! 

"  No,"  I  said,  very  audibly,  "  I  won't.  Good- 
bye." 

"  How  red  and  cross  the  small  person  looked !  " 
I  heard  Mrs.  Robertson  say,  as  I  went  down  the 
stairs.  I  had  a  strong  impulse  to  go  back  and 
tell  her  why. 

Davis  let  me  out.  He  and  the  maid,  Annie, 
had  been  whispering  and  giggling  in  the  hall. 
I  wondered  whether  they  stayed  in  the  house 
without  wages  for  the  sake  of  the  entertainment 
their  employers  furnished  them.  Vicariously 
mortified,  I  made  my  way  home  to  my  beautiful, 
transcendental  Marion — who  had  not  yet  returned 


126  Dainty  Devils. 

from  her  cancer  friend.  I  was  unreasonably  pro- 
voked at  her,  as  I  dressed  for  the  luncheon  at 
Mrs.  Layton's  to  which  we  were  both  going. 
Marion  came  in  when  the  brougham  was  at  the 
door. 

"  If  I  could  only  go  in  this !"  she  said,  regret- 
fully, pinching  her  serge  sleeve.  "  But  I  shall 
be  ready  in  ten  minutes.  I  was  so  unexpectedly 
detained,"  and  she  laughed  as  she  rushed  up- 
stairs. 

"  Most  charmingly  inconsiderate  of  you,"  I 
called  after  her,  still  cross  and  out  of  sorts  with 
all  the  world. 

"  Oh,  I'll  tell  you,"  came  from  the  upper  land- 
ing, "  you  and  you  only." 

She  laughed  once  more,  and  I  wished  I  felt 
so  gay. 

Actually  within  ten  minutes  she  appeared  in 
regal  elegance,  not  flushed,  nor  breathless,  nor 
at  all  ruffled.  Between  chagrin  at  not  having 
met  Lou,  and  anger  at  the  outcome  of  my  visit 
with  Belle,  I  was  ugly  enough  to  snap  at  even 
Jack  himself,  but  by  the  time  we  had  turned  the 
corner,  Marion's  calm  good-nature  had  subdued 
me. 

"  Hurry  up  with  what  you  have  to  tell  me, 
dear,"  I  said.  "  It's  not  far  to  LaytonsV 

Marion  looked  at  me  mischievously. 

"  I  had  a  proposal,  Dot — on  the  stairs  of  a 


December.  127 

tenement-house.      Oh,    I    know   it's    wicked    to 
laugh." 

"  It  is,"  I  said,  severely,  "  horribly  so.  Love  is 
an  awfully  serious  matter,  Marion  LaGrange, 
and  you  ought  to  know  it." 

It  was  cruel  to  say  it,  and  I  hated  myself  as  the 
girl  turned  deathly  pale.  No  suspicion  of  laugh- 
ter remained  as  she  said,  slowly : 

"  You  are  right,  Dot.  It  is  wrong  even  to  tell 
you." 

,       I  was  disappointed,  being  only  a  woman, 
i      "  That  is  as  you  think  best,"  I  managed  to 
say. 

"  You  can  advise  me  what  to  do,  and  I'd 
rather  tell  you  than  mother."  She  hesitated. 

I  smiled  encouragingly.     Marion  resumed : 

"  It's  the  curate  of  St.  Clara's.  Do  you  like 
him,  Dot?" 

"  No,"  emphatically,  "  I  detest  him.  Not  a 
single  thing  about  his  profession  suits  his  char- 
acter except  his  cassocks.  He  was  meant  to  go 
round  in  skirts  like  a  woman;  so  they're  most 
appropriate." 

"  Oh,  now  you're  wrong,  Dot.  He's  intensely 
devout  and  earnest — " 

"  And  a  flirt,  and  he  fibs  whenever  a  fib  is  con- 
venient," I  continued,  "  and  altogether  I  despise 
him." 

Marion  looked  downcast. 


128  Dainty  Devils. 

"  You  evidently  don't  think  his  asking  me  to 
marry  him  much  of  a  compliment,  do  you  ?  Well, 
he  did,  on  the  stairs,  where  I  met  him  going  to 
call  upon  the  sick  woman  I  was  leaving.  I 
was  so  astonished  that  I  only  said  '  Oh  don't ! ' 
and  bolted  for  the  street,  and  he  ran  after  me, 
Dot—" 

Here  the  ludicrous  overcame  Marion  again, 
and  she  broke  off  laughing. 

"  It  was  quite  like  him,  Marion,  and  I  should 
be  wild  if  you  cared  for  him.  He's  a  perfect 
ninny." 

"  Oh,  Dot !  I  kept  running  till  we  reached  the 
corner  and  then  I  noticed  that  some  small  boys 
had  joined  in  the  chase,  and  I  felt  what  a  specta- 
cle I  was  making  of  myself,  and  how  foolish  I 
was,  and  stopped  and  tried  to  gasp  out  an 
apology." 

"  Well,  what  else,  dear  ?     Here  we  are." 

"  He  said  if  I  persisted  in  saying,  '  No,'  he 
would  go  West,  and  might  give  up  the  ministry." 
Marion  looked  awed. 

"  Let  him  do  both,  and  welcome,  Marion.  But 
he  won't.  He  is  not  cut  out  for  heroics.  What 
presumption  to  expect  to  marry  you !" 

We  were  going  up  the  steps.  Marion  sighed 
deeply. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  in  a  suddenly 
weary  voice,  "  I'm  by  no  means  irresistible." 


December.  129 

At  that  moment  I  could  have  shot  Percy  Earle. 

The  luncheon  was  an  over-decorated,  over- 
long,  over-dull  affair,  where  I  ate  more  than  was 
comfortable,  for  the  want  of  something  better  to 
do.  Mrs.  Layton  is  always  fretting  about  some- 
thing or  other,  and  entertained  her  guests  by 
disjointed  bursts  of  the  probability  of  various 
minor  calamities,  such  as  catching  cold  at  the 
Opera;  the  children  looking  red  and  very  likely 
being  in  for  the  measles ;  and  so  on,  quite  like  a 
genuinely  uneducated  farmer's  wife.  Her  birth 
and  breeding  have  done  little  for  her,  except  to 
give  her  a  clear-cut  face — a  good  deal  like  Percy's 
in  miniature — in  which  all  expression  is  lacking 
except  chronic  peevishness.  She  has  a  pitifully 
attentive  husband,  who  thinks  she  is  the  most 
beautiful  part  of  creation,  and  humors  her  to 
the  verge  of  downright  weak-mindedness.  If  he 
should  dare  call  his  soul  his  own,  she  would  cow 
him  into  immediate  apology  by  reminding  him  of 
the  care  of  her  "  five  helpless  children  " — whom 
she  hardly  ever  sees.  These  pretty  little  things 
are  the  j oiliest  scapegoats,  and  unconsciously  bear 
all  their  mother's  shortcomings  upon  their  in- 
nocent golden  heads.  No  subject  is  too  irrele- 
vant or  far-fetched  for  the  "  five  helpless  chil- 
dren "  to  have  a  bearing  upon  it.  I  once  heard 
Mr.  Layton  suggest  that  another  hat  might  be 
more  becoming  to  his  wife.  With  a  flash  and 

9 


130  Dainty  Devils. 

a  quiver  Mrs.  Layton  flayed  him  by  demanding 
how  any  woman  with  five  helpless  children  could 
take  the  time  to  select  the  proper  hats?  It  was 
all  I  could  do  not  to  whistle.  Belle  St.  John  has 
frequently  explained  the  whole  situation  by  re- 
marking, "  Oh,  it's  because  Addie  Layton  has  all 
the  money." 

Still,  I  do  not  think  Jack  is  the  head  of  the 
house  because  he  has  the  money ;  he  is  the  mas- 
ter because  he  is  a  man,  not  a  Miss  Nancy. 

These  thoughts  were  all  very  contemptible 
while  I  was  sitting  at  the  woman's  table ;  the 
trouble  was  that  when  I  reproached  myself  and 
tried  to  think  of  other  matters,  I  was  haunted  by 
Belle  St.  John  and  her  gambling,  or  worse  yet, 
Lou  Allison  and  what  I  meant  to  tell  her  about 
the  affair  with  Percy  Earle. 

I  left  the  minute  I  could  decently  do  so,  de- 
termined to  see  Lou  before  dinner,  if  I  had  to 
drive  over  half  of  New  York.  Marion  stared 
a  little  when  I  told  her  I  would  leave  her  at  the 
house  and  would  then  go  somewhere  alone. 

"  Why  did  you  ask  me  to  stop  with  you,  Dot  ?" 
she  asked,  only  half-jesting.  "  I  seem  a  good 
deal  in  the  way." 

"  Not  at  all.  You  didn't  take  me  to  your  sick 
woman  this  morning,  did  you?  And  I  wasn't 
angry.  Run  along,  dear,  I'll  soon  be  back." 

This  time  Lou  was  at  home.  My  satisfaction 
became  limp  when  I  discovered  she  was  not  alone. 


December.  131 

A  thin,  starved-looking  individual  was  talk- 
ing most  industriously  to  her  of  the  great  advan- 
tages to  be  gained  by  subscribing  to  a  new  peri- 
odical. Lou  appeared  more  than  bored,  and 
fairly  sprang  to  meet  me. 

"  Oh,  Dot,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you.  I'm  going 
out  with  this  lady,"  she  added,  glibly  to  the  can- 
vasser, "  so  you'll  excuse  me." 

The  gaunt  young  woman  stood  up,  her  long 
face  growing  longer  and  her  golf  skirt  falling 
in  lines  verily  suggestive  of  a  "  driver,"  while 
her  eagerly  thrust  forward  neck  and  head  finished 
the  simile  most  appropriately. 

"But  the  subscription?"  she  almost  squealed. 
"  Four  dollars  a  year,  and  the  most  delightful 
illustrations."  Here  she  began  flirting  the  leaves 
of  an  ungainly-sized  magazine.  "  Perhaps  this 
lady—" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  I  said,  sympathetically.  She  looked 
so  hungry  and  disappointed !  "  I  haven't  any 
money  with  me — 

"  Only  the  name  and  address,  Madam.  Thank 
you  ever  so  much,"  as  I  handed  her  my  card. 
"  So  very  kind  of  you.  And  if  you  will  recom- 
mend the  publication — " 

"  We're  extremely  pressed  for  time,"  inter- 
rupted Lou,  "  and  we'll  recommend  you  to  every- 
body." 

Her  fibs  were  brazen,  but  before  I  could  remark 


132  Dainty  Devils. 

upon  the  matter,  Lou  burst  out  angrily,  the  can- 
vasser being  barely  out  of  hearing. 

"  It's  another  part  of  Davis'  impudence !  He 
sent  that  creature  upstairs  simply  to  annoy  me. 
I  couldn't  insult  her  because  the  curate  of  St. 
Clara's  gave  her  my  name." 

"  How  could  Davis  know  you  wouldn't  receive 
her?" 

"  I  never  see  any  canvassers,  and  he  knows 
it.  I  haven't  time  nor  money  for  them." 

"  Can  Davis  recognize  a  canvasser  ?  "  I  asked, 
mystified. 

At  home  in  Graytown  we  had  been  always 
delighted  to  see  one,  although  it  was  hard  that 
most  of  the  time  we  could  not  buy  anything. 
Lame  Ann  used  to  say  they  were  lots  more  im- 
proving than  a  daily  paper,  and  going  generally 
round  to  the  back-door  where  the  women  were 
busy,  they  could  tell  her  exactly  what  was  doing 
in  every  house  in  the  village. 

"  Certainly,"  was  Lou's  impatient  answer ; 
"didn't  she  have  a  bag?  And  her  voice,  and 
clothes !  Oh,  everyone  knows  a  canvasser." 

"  You  seem  out  of  sorts,  Lou." 

"  Oh,  I've  business  on  hand — serious  legal 
business.  I  may  have  to  go  West  again — where 
I  was  all  summer.  I  believe  I  am  both  tired  and 
cross.  And  I  don't  feel  like  a  long  railroad  jour- 
ney." 


December.  133 

The  laugh  and  recklessness  being  so  conspicu- 
ously absent,  I  rather  wavered  in  my  determina- 
tion of  lecturing  her,  when  she  seemed  in  trouble 
already.  What  legal  business  could  Lou  have 
in  the  West? 

"What  is  it,  Lou?"  I  asked,  anxiously,  "is 
anything  wrong?" 

"  No,  no,  nothing  at  all — or  everything,  if  you 
please ;  it  depends  upon  the  way  one  regards  the 
subject.  Oh,  the  deuce!  Don't  look  so  glum, 
Dot." 

Surely  I  could  not  look  so  glum  as  did  Lou 
herself. 

"  I  came  here  to  scold  you,  Lou,  and  if  you're 
in  trouble  I  don't  want  to."  Thus  I  made 
audible  the  vacillation  between  duty  and  sympa- 
thy. 

Lou  opened  her  eyes  and  mouth ;  then  her 
saucy  laugh  pealed  forth. 

"  Scold  me? "  she  cried,  and  coming  closer 
to  me  she  shook  me.  "  For  Heaven's  sake, 
begin.  It  will  be  the  jolliest  sport  I've  had  in 
weeks."  Her  great  eyes  laughed  a  challenge 
into  mine. 

"  I'm  in  dead  earnest,  Lou — "  I  began. 

What  an  unlucky  day  !  Davis  stood  at  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Earle  to  see  you,  Madam." 

Lou  started,  and  I  started  much  more. 

"  Show  him  up,"  she  said,  sharply.    As  soon 


134  Dainty  Devils. 

as  Davis  had  disappeared,  she  caught  my  hand  as 
I  moved  backwards. 

"  You're  not  going,  are  you  ?  "  she  questioned, 
eagerly. 

"  Decidedly,  yes ;  I  didn't  come  to  hold  a  con- 
versation a  trois."  I  myself  was  surprised  at  the 
bitterness  of  my  voice. 

"  Dot,  please  stay ;  I  beg  you  not  to  go." 

I  stared  at  her. 

"  Let  go  my  hand,  Lou ;  you  hurt  me." 

"  Dot,  stay, "  she  whispered,  insistently. 
Percy's  step  was  already  upon  the  stairs. 

"  No,  I  won't,"  doggedly. 

"  An  unexpected  pleasure,"  said  Percy  Earle 
to  me,  his  face  not  at  all  confirming  the  words. 

"  I  was  just  leaving,  Mr.  Earle.  Good-bye, 
Lou." 

She  gave  me  an  imploring  look  as  our  eyes 
met,  and  so  great  is  Lou's  influence  over  me  that 
it  was  only  by  an  effort  of  the  will  that  I  got 
away. 

Going  home  I  cried.  The  day  had  been  one  of 
excitement  and  strain,  and  my  nerves  are  by  no 
means  what  they  were  a  year  ago.  I  longed  un- 
speakably for  Graytown,  as  I  had  so  often  done 
during  the  past  month.  Suddenly  I  laughed  aloud. 
To  be  implored  to  remain  twice  in  one  day  in  the 
same  household,  was  a  very  comical  experience. 
The  laugh  died  away  as  I  wondered  wretchedly 


December.  135 

whether  I  had  done  wrong  in  leaving  Lou.  Her 
beseeching  eyes  remained  with  me,  and  the 
recollection  was  almost  as  potent  as  Lou's  actual 
presence.  What  had  I  to  do  with  her  reception 
of  visitors?  Lou  was  old  enough  and  worldly 
enough  to  manage  her  own  affairs.  Had  she 
not  been  mercilessly  ridiculing  me  when  Percy 
was  announced  ?  I  sighed  in  despair. 

Arrived  at  home,  my  eyes  proved  consider- 
able of  an  embarrassment,  for  I  had  no  plausible 
explanation  to  give  Marion,  and  I  hate  to  be 
mysterious.  I  was  laudably  endeavoring  to  look 
pleasant  as  I  entered  the  hall.  Alas !  My  ill- 
luck  seemed  to  have  come  to  stay.  From  the 
music-room  came  the  notes  of  two  violins,  and 
clever  as  Marion  is,  she  could  not  play  more  than 
one  at  a  time!  Crosson's  polite  murmur  to  the 
effect  that  Mr.  Allison  had  come  in  half-an-hour 
ago,  was  quite  unnecessary ;  I  knew  at  once  that 
he  and  Marion  were  playing  duets.  Already 
over-wrought  and  upset,  the  situation  acutely 
annoyed  me.  Here  was  Lou's  husband  playing 
duets  with  a  young  girl  at  my  house,  while  his 
wife  was  simultaneously  entertaining  in  her 
drawing-room,  the  young  man  with  whom  this 
girl  was  in  love!  A  man  would  have  sworn;  I 
vented  my  emotions  by  a  dash  upstairs  and  a  few 
sharp  words  to  Perkins  about  not  having  my 
dinner-gown  out.  This  was  most  unjust  and 


136  Dainty  Devils. 

'foolish,  as  it  was  barely  five  o'clock,  and  yet  I 
do  not  know  but  what  venting  oneself  upon  the 
Creator  of  heaven  and  earth  is  even  worse. 

"  Will  you  dress  at  once,  Madam  ?"  asked  Per- 
kins, astonished. 

"  No,  no,  did  I  say  so  ?     Just  fix  my  hair." 

I  waited  a  good  while  before  I  went  down- 
stairs. 

"  Oh,  we're  so  glad  you've  come !"  exclaimed 
Marion.  "  Do  please  play  the  piano  part  of  this." 

I  consoled  myself  instantly  in  regard  to  my 
appearance.  Both  she  and  Allison  were  wholly 
absorbed  in  the  music,  and  would  give  no  atten- 
tion to  the  condition  of  my  eyes.  Even  enthu- 
siasts are  practically  useful  at  times. 

"Dot!" 

It  was  Marion,  her  bow  suspended  i.i  air,  her 
eyes  lit  with  indignant  reproach. 

"  Do  you  know  we  are  playing  Handel's 
Largo?" 

"  In  the  tempo  of  a  waltz,"  supplemented  Mr. 
Allison,  laughing  at  my  dismayed  countenance. 

"  I'll  try  to  do  better,"  I  said,  meekly.  "  You 
must  excuse  me,  but  my  mind  was  upon  other 
things." 

"  So  it  appears,"  returned  Mr.  Allison,  dryly. 
"  You  are  far  too  free  from  care,  Mrs.  Wood- 
ward, to  fall  readily  into  the  slow,  sad  measure 
of  this." 


December.  137 

It  is  a  relief  to  know  that  I  am  becoming  suc- 
cessful in  hiding  my  feelings. 

******* 

Quite  early  this  morning  Belle  St.  John  came 
to  see  me,  to  Jack's  surprise,  as  he  knows  her 
usual  hour  for  breakfast. 

"  What's  wrong,  Belle  ?"  he  asked,  as  he  shook 
hands,  and  added  he  was  about  due  at  his  office. 

"  Nothing,  Jack.  Got  up  early,  perhaps,  or 
maybe  didn't  go  to  bed  at  all." 

Jack  was  putting  on  his  gloves,  and  frowned 
ostensibly  at  the  clasp,  but  in  reality,  at  Belle. 

"  Allow  me  to  remark,  my  dear  girl,  that  you 
look  more  like  the  latter.  You're  not  taking 
much  care  of  yourself,  Belle." 

"  And  nobody  cares,"  she  sang,  recklessly. 
"  Good-bye,  Jack ;  run  along.  It  was  Dot  I  came 
to  see." 

"  I  hope  she  will  teach  you  some  manners,"  he 
said,  rather  severely ;  "  and  Dot,  make  her  eat 
some  breakfast.  I  don't  believe  she  has  had 
any." 

Now  I  had  an  appointment  at  the  dressmaker's, 
and  as  soon  as  Jack  had  gone  and  Belle  had  short- 
ly declined  my  invitation  to  the  dining-room,  I 
rather  jubilantly  announced  the  fact. 

"  At  Mme.  Blanchesi's  ?  "  asked  Belle,  relaps- 
ing into  her  indolent  manner. 

"  Yes." 


138  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Well,  I'll  go  with  you.  I  want  to  see  what 
she  has.  Anyway,  I  must  have  a  talk  with  you, 
and  we  can  talk  as  well  in  the  carriage  as  here." 

There  was  no  way  out  of  it.  I  had  indeed  been 
a  dull  diplomat  when  I  proposed  the  dressmaker 
to  a  woman  like  Belle.  Ungraciously  enough  I 
sat  down  beside  her  in  the  brougham,  and,  stub- 
born and  cross,  waited  for  her  to  speak.  A 
mighty  sigh  was  the  first  indication  that  Belle's 
heart  was  heavy.  I  gazed  out  of  the  window, 
pretending  not  to  have  heard  the  affectedly  pa- 
thetic sound. 

"  You  must  help  me,  Dot,"  she  said,  finally. 

"In  what?"  coldly. 

"  You  know  very  well." 

I  sat  silent  and  unresponsive. 

"  You  simply  must  get  me  out  of  it.  I  told 
her  she'd  surely  get  the  money  to-day.  She 
threatens  to  go  to  Jack  if  I  don't  keep  my  word, 
and  I'm  deathly  afraid  of  Jack  when  it  comes 
to  poker."  Belle  sat  nervously  squeezing  her 
left  hand  with  her  right. 

"  I  don't  wonder  in  the  least.  And  I  should 
think  if  not  afraid,  you  would  be  ashamed,  to 
go  to  Jack's  wife." 

Belle  began  to  cry,  raising  both  hands  child- 
ishly to  her  eyes. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Dot,"  she  whimpered.  "  I'll 
surely  pay  you  before  long.  One  is  bound  to 


December.  139 

win  again  some  day.  I  felt  confident  of  luck 
being  with  me  yesterday,  and  you  know  I'd  been 
under  the  weather  in  the  morning,  so  late  in  the 
afternoon  I  went  over  to  Addie  Layton's  for  a 
change,  and  stopped  informally  to  dinner." 

Here  Belle  fairly  sobbed. 

"  Did  the  dinner  poison  you  ?"  I  asked,  sar- 
castically. 

"  You  can  be  a  fiend  at  times,  Dot,"  Belle  com- 
mented, suddenly  drying  her  eyes  and  gulping. 
"  I  proposed  a  game  as  we  left  the  dining-room — 
only  Addie,  her  husband,  Percy  Earle  and  I. 
Well,  I  lost  another  fifty,  although  we  kept  at 
it  till  two  this  morning.  That  fifty  Lou  may 
manage  to  give  me.  But  the  two  hundred  for 
Mrs.  Robertson — Oh,  Dot,  for  Heaven's  sake 
don't  be  so  mean!  I  must  pay  her,  or  she  will 
disgrace  me.  She's  wild  for  the  money,  and  al- 
though she  says  it's  for  the  dressmaker,  I  don't 
believe  it.  She  must  be  in  some  kind  of  a  scrape 
herself.  Don't  you  see  you've  got  to  help  me? 
And  if  you  persist  in  being  so  stingy  with  your 
money — " 

I  was  horribly  excited.  Belle's  accusation  of 
stinginess  maddened  me.  Pressing  the  electric 
button,  I  had  the  carriage  stopped  and  the  foot- 
man at  the  door  in  a  couple  of  seconds.  We  were 
at  a  Sixth  Avenue  crossing  where  a  man  with 
both  legs  off  was  playing  a  blood-curdling  accor- 


140  Dainty  Devils. 

deon  in  front  of  a  saloon.  Why,  by-the-way,  does 
afflicted  humanity  so  frequently  haunt  saloons? 
Are  half-intoxicated  people  more  charitable  than 
respectable  mortals  in  full  posession  of  their 
senses?  A  small  boy  holding  a  tin  cup  stood  at 
the  cripple's  side.  The  noise,  the  people,  the 
sight  of  the  man's  mutilated  body,  carried  me 
beyond  myself.  I  beckoned  energetically  to  the 
thin  little  cup-bearer.  The  boy  sprang  nimbly 
towards  me,  no  doubt  expecting  a  nickel. 
Trembling,  I  emptied  my  purse  into  the  cup. 
There  were  five  ten  dollar  bills  and  some  change. 
The  child  stood  as  if  petrified,  and  the  footman's 
jaw  dropped.  From  Belle  there  came  a  stifled 
scream  and  a  grab  at  my  arm. 

"  Drive  on,"  I  said,  in  a  shrill  voice. 

"  Are  you  crazy  ?  "  gasped  Belle,  as  the  door 
slammed. 

"  No ;  I  only  wanted  to  show  you  how  much 
I  care  about  money.  I'd  rather  give  that  cripple 
all  I  have  than  pay  a  copper  of  your  gambling 
debts.  And  this  is  my  last  word  upon  the  sub- 
ject, Belle  St.  John." 

The  woman  did  not  resent  my  words  as  I 
expected.  She  sank  back  in  her  seat  and  closed 
her  eyes.  She  turned  so  pale  that  for  an  in- 
stant I  thought  she  had  fainted. 

"  Belle,"  I  cried,  conscience-stricken,  "  Belle ! 
Are  you  ill?" 


December.  141 

I  shook  her  in  my  anxiety. 

"  No,"  she  said,  wearily.  "  We  must  be  nearly 
at  Madame's.  I'll  be  all  right  there." 

At  that  moment  the  carriage  stopped.  I  hasti- 
ly got  out  and  told  the  footman  to  assist  Mrs. 
St.  John.  She  spoke  to  a  servant  in  the  hall, 
and  we  went  into  the  reception-room  together. 
We  were  barely  seated  when  the  servant  reap- 
peared with  a  decanter  and  two  glasses.  I  re- 
membered the  scene  at  Belle's  breakfast  in  bed, 
and  was  hardly  surprised  when,  feeling  faint  as 
she  did,  she  took  a  generous  drink  of  whiskey. 
Her  order  to  the  maid,  however,  as  she  set  down 
the  glass,  completely  shocked  me. 

"  Have  a  couple  of  cocktails  sent  to  us  in 
the  fitting-room,"  she  said,  "  and  don't  have  them 
weak." 

"  Are  you  better  ?  "  I  asked,  in  a  perfunctory 
manner. 

"  Yes,  lots !  No  thanks  to  you.  I  wonder  if 
Madame  will  keep  you  waiting  long?" 

She  did  not.  I  was  presently  in  the  fitting- 
room,  with  Belle,  no  longer  pale,  at  my  elbow. 
Madame  was  most  respectful  to  Belle,  ever  so 
much  more  than  she  was  to  me,  and  this  although 
Belle  found  fault  with  everything,  even  the  tem- 
perature of  the  room.  I  began  to  feel  very  tired 
and  utterly  devoid  of  any  interest  in  the  gowns 
being  fitted  to  me.  The  excitement  to  which 


142  Dainty  Devils. 

I  had  yielded  on  the  way  down,  had  been  fol- 
lowed by  extreme  exhaustion.  I  was  dismally 
wishing  I  had  let  the  dressmaker  go  for  that 
day,  when  the  servant  who  had  brought  the  whis- 
key to  the  reception-room,  came  in  with  two  cock- 
tails in  exquisite  glasses  upon  a  silver  tray. 
Belle  took  one  nonchalantly,  and  the  tray  was 
brought  to  me. 

"  No,"  I  said,  drawing  back  indignantly  and 
thereby  suffering  a  nasty  dig  of  a  pin  in  my 
arm.  "  I  don't  take  cocktails." 

Madame  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"  Oh,  madame,"  said  she,  "  all  ze  ladies  drink 
ze  cocktails  at  ze  fitting.  It  is  so  fatiguing,  ze 
standing  for  long  time." 

"  I  do  not  do  so,"  I  said,  emphatically. 

"  Bring  it  to  me,"  murmured  Belle.  "  It  won't 
be  wasted." 

Mme.  Blanchesi  made  a  remark  in  French  to 
the  assistant,  who  was  pinning  flounces  on  my 
skirt,  to  the  effect  that  I  was  a  stupid  little  thing, 
and  as  for  my  figure,  it  was  not  laced  enough. 

My  face  blazed.  Madame  was  not  looking  at 
me  and  I  held  my  peace  till  we  were  leaving. 
Then  I  paused  at  the  door  and  addressed  the 
bowing  French  woman  in  her  own  tongue. 

"  Send  the  bill  with  the  gowns,  if  you  please. 
I  shall  be  through  with  you  at  once." 

All  Madame's  suavity  did  not  prevent  her  from 


December.  143 

starting  violently.  She  managed  to  bow  low  and 
muttered  something  unintelligible. 

"Do  you  mind  driving  me  somewhere  and  wait- 
ing a  few  minutes  ?  "  asked  Belle,  disspiritedly. 

She  looked  ill  and  queer,  and  although  I  sus- 
pected the  cocktails,  I  could  not  well  refuse  her 
request. 

"  Not  at  all,  I  am  only  going  home." 

Belle  herself  gave  the  address  to  the  man.  We 
had  proceeded  a  few  squares  further  downtown 
when  the  horses  were  pulled  up. 

"  You're  sure  you  won't  lend  me  the  two  hun- 
dred ? "  Belle  asked,  turning  after  leaving  the 
carriage. 

Silently  I  shook  my  head,  again  deprecating 
the  cocktails  which  I  believed  responsible  for  the 
irrelevant  question. 

Belle  continued  upon  her  way.  We  were  in 
front  of  an  ordinary  four-story  brownstone  house, 
and  I  dimly  wondered  who  lived  there.  The 
address  was  certainly  not  upon  my  visiting- 
list. 

Fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  elapsed  before  Belle 
reappeared.  She  came  down  the  steps  rapidly 
and  had  rather  a  frightened  expression.  The 
"  Home ! "  she  said  to  the  footman  was  meek 
compared  with  her  habitual  manner  of  giving  an 
order. 


144  Dainty  Devils. 

"  It's  the  first  time,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  and  I  know  it  will  not  be  the  last." 

"  The  last  what  ?  "  I  asked,  impatiently.  I  hate 
riddles  and  conundrums,  and  Belle  had  me  guess- 
ing. 

Belle  laid  her  ungloved  left  hand  upon  my 
knee.  I  gazed  blankly  at  the  trim  fingers.  They 
told  me  nothing. 

"  Don't  you  see  ?  I  generally  wore  an  engage- 
ment-ring, didn't  I  ?  "  She  spoke  slowly,  softly, 
as  though  imparting  a  secret. 

There  was  a  long  pause. 

Belle  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  It  was  a  glorious  stone,"  she  said,  slowly ; 
"  they  gave  me  three  hundred  after  a  very  brief 
haggle.  I  should  have  demanded  more.  They 
showed  me  a  lot  of  jewels  which  they  tried  to 
make  me  believe  were  more  valuable  than  mine, 
and  for  which  they  had  given  much  less  money. 
Oh,  I  recognized  a  few,  Dot !  Addie  Layton's 
ruby  stick-pin  beyond  a  doubt.  And  there  were 
half  a  dozen  others  about  which  I  am  more  than 
half  sure." 

Involuntarily  I  moved  away  from  Belle. 

"  Well,  Pharisee,"  she  said,  tantalizingly, 
"  have  you  learned  something  new  again — some- 
thing which,  '  I  thank  Thee,  Lord,'  you  have 
never  done  ?  Don't  forget  you  made  it  necessary, 
Pot." 


December.  145 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  learn  next,"  I  said, 
desperately.  "  But  I  know  I  still  possess  my 
reason,  and  am  in  no  way  answerable  for  your 
acts.  If  you  didn't  gamble,  you  would  not  be  in 
such  a  disgraceful  position,  nor  have  to  sell  your 
jewelry." 

"  I  merely  pawned  it,"  she  said,  tranquilly,  "  at 
a  delightful  place  frequented  by  the  best  society ; 
however,  unless  I  have  appallingly  good  luck,  it 
will  never  be  redeemed." 

"  Your  engagement-ring !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Yes :  and  a  fitting  disposal  of  so  outraged 
a  symbol.  You  never  knew  St.  John,  my  dear, 
and  Jack  is  not  a  brute ;  therefore  you  don't  know 
to  what  cruel  misery  a  wedding  is  often  the  intro- 
duction. If  it  were  not  for  public  opinion  I'd 
throw  my  wedding-ring  into  the  river." 

She  was  talking  loudly  now,  and  I  had  a  sud- 
den dread  that  through  the  open  window  her 
voice  would  reach  the  coachman.  It  was  with 
enormous  relief  that  I  left  her  at  her  own  door. 

I  sat  and  thought  a  long  time  alone  in  my  room. 
Father  had  brought  me  up  to  regard  the  sanctity 
and  obligations  of  marriage  as  stupendous  things. 
I  could  hear  him  saying  to  me  shortly  after 
my  engagement  to  Jack :  "  Little  one,  the  right 
kind  of  marriage  means  sacrifice,  unselfishness, 
patient  devotion  upon  both  sides,  yet  more 
upon  the  wife's.  Not  infrequently,  for  the  wife 

IO 


146  Dainty  Devils. 

it  is  extreme  suffering  and  death."  Father  had 
paused  here  and  his  eyes  had  grown  dim.  I  knew 
he  was  thinking  of  mother,  who  died  the  day  I 
was  born.  "  Love  makes  all  this  not  only  possi- 
ble, but  easy — love  and  God's  blessing.  Are 
yau  sure  your  love  for  Jack  is  strong  enough 
to  bear  the  test  which  marriage  imposes  ?  "  I 
had  been  sure,  and  I  am  still  sure,  and  we  are 
very  happy.  Are  Jack  and  I  the  only  ones  who 
are  not  wretched?  I  reviewed  the  women  I 
know  best  in  this  strange,  unrestful,  feverish 
New  York.  Belle,  virtually  divorced ;  Lou,  on 
the  verge  of  public  scandal ;  Mrs.  Layton,  moan- 
ing and  complaining  over  the  burden  of  her  in- 
creasing family,  leaving  her  children  to  whatever 
care  they  can  get  from  middle-aged  women  up  to 
all  kinds  of  tricks  to  spare  themselves,  who 
come  recommended  for  taking  "  full  charge !  " 
hating  domesticity,  abominating  exertion  in  any 
practical  line,  and  exacting  the  most  humiliating 
attention  from  a  husband  whom  she  barely  tol- 
erates ;  Mrs.  Robertson,  openly  quarreling  with 
and  ridiculing,  the  rather  strait-laced  man  whom 
she  married  for  his  money,  and  whom  she 
leads  through  a  maze  of  dinners,  balls,  card- 
parties,  theatricals,  and  yachting  and  coaching 
trips. 

I  paused  in  despair.     These  are  the  women 
I  know  best.     And  the   four  are  enough  var- 


December.  147 

legated,  so  to  speak,  by  different  ages  and 
circumstances,  to  be  four  pretty  fair  specimens 
of  New  York  society-women.  Suddenly  a  light 
broke  over  my  gloom — I  had  forgotten  Marion 
LaGrange's  mother.  Married  at  eighteen  and 
left  a  widow  at  twenty-one,  with  Marion  just 
a  year  old,  rich  and  exceptionally  beautiful  and 
winning,  she  had,  out  of  love  for  her  husband, 
persistently  refused  to  marry  again,  keeping  the 
memory  of  those  four  happy  years  as  the  fund 
of  her  cheerfulness  through  life.  Both  Jack  and 
Marion  had  told  me  the  story,  and  its  corrobora- 
tion  shines  in  her  face. 

"  One  out  of  five,"  I  told  myself,  sighing. 
Once  upon  a  time  two  cities  would  have  been 
spared,  could  only  ten  just  men  have  been  found. 
Is  the  world  as  bad  now  as  it  was  then  ? 

Just  men! — Jack  is  one.  I  think  Allison  is 
another,  although  I  admit  that  I  cannot  make 
him  out.  Quiet,  almost  wooden  indeed,  some- 
times a  trivial  action  of  peculiar  tenderness  breaks 
through  his  self-contained  manner.  Last  Sun-  I 
day  coming  from  church,  I  saw  him — and  no 
one  else  did — silently  stroke  a  forlorn,  scalded 
cat.  Lame  Ann,  who  was  ever  ready  with  pro- 
verbial criticisms  of  her  associates  and  ac- 
quaintances, had  oracularly  declared  to  me,  more 
than  once,  "  Tis  a^  good  man  who  likes  cats !  " 
I  found  her  words  mentally  repeating  them- 


148  Dainty  Devils. 

selves  as  I  regarded  Mr.  Allison  in  his  furtive 
petting  of  the  outcast  feline.  Yes,  I  am  not 
afraid  to  state,  unqualifiedly,  that  he  is  a  just 
man — although  a  difficult  riddle,  too.  Mrs.  Rob- 
ertson's husband  would  have  been  admirable  in 
his  own  country,  say  three  hundred  years  ago. 
Mr.  Layton  is  certainly  in  love  with  his  wife  and 
children,  in  spite  of  his  wife's  caustic  tongue 
and  discontented  disposition,  which  all  things 
considered,  must  make  life  a  burden  to  him.  The 
other  married  men  I  do  not  know  so  well.  As 
for  the  unmarried! 

Percy  Earle !  Unmitigated  wretch  !  Breaking 
Marion's  heart,  and  for  what? 

Crosson  is  coming  in  with  a  card.  My  thought 
has  become  incarnate.  I  go  down  to  receive 

Percy  Earle. 

******* 

I  think  I  was  red  in  the  face  when  I  silently 
extended  my  hand  to  Mr.  Percy  Earle.  He  was 
looking  very  handsome  and  smart  in  every  par- 
ticular. 

"  My  third  call,  Mrs.  Woodward,"  he  said, 
easily,  "  and  the  first  time  I  find  you  at  home." 

"  And  the  inference  you  draw  ?  "  I  asked, 
rather  haughtily,  as  we  both  sat  down. 

"  Oh,  there  can  be  only  two  possibilities ;  you 
were  really  out  or  you  were  resting  to  preserve 
your  charming  complexion." 


December.  149 

I  did  not  like  that  remark  at  all,  and  I  retorted 
impulsively : 

"  You  forget  the  third  possibility ;  that  I  might 
not  want  to  see  you." 

Mr.  Earle  looked  at  a  loss.  There  was  a  slight 
pause,  during  which  I  felt  uncomfortable,  and 
studied  the  floor.  This  time  it  was  the  man  who 
spoke  first,  which  I  think  is  not  the  rule,  after 
an  embarrassing  moment.  I  was  completely 
taken  aback  by  the  dignity  in  his  voice  as  Mr. 
Earle  said ; 

"  Mrs.  Woodward,  only  give  me  the  slightest 
hint  that  you  were  displeased  at  seeing  my  card, 
and  I  shall  respectfully  withdraw." 

I  glanced  up  quickly.  Often  as  I  had  met 
him,  I  had  found  his  eyes  uniformly  expression- 
less, except  while  he  was  talking  to  Lou.  They 
now  flashed  at  me  alarmingly,  in  spite  of  the 
calmness  of  his  tone.  Here  was  temper! 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  I  said,  hastily ;  "  I  was 
very  rude  indeed.  And  I  am  not  sorry  you 
came." 

"  Not  sorry,"  he  echoed,  "  and  certainly  not 
glad.  Well,  you  are  at  least  frank,  Mrs.  Wood- 
ward. I  suppose  I  am  to  understand  that  you 
don't  approve  of  me  ?  " 

This  man  was  ten  years  younger  than  Jack, 
but  I  felt  very  young  and  stupid  as  he  sat 
opposite  me,  with  angry  eyes  and  quiet  words. 


150  Dainty  Devils. 

I  wondered  what  had  caused  me  to  make  that 
unfortunate  remark.  I  wished  I  had  not  come 
down  at  all.  As  I  sat  in  silent  confusion,  Mr. 
Earle  rose. 

"  You  will  allow  me  to  bid  you  good  evening, 
Mrs.  Woodward  ?  " 

Impetuously  I  stepped  toward  him. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Earle,  you  must  forgive  me.  Really, 
I  am  very  tired  and  upset,  and  I  am  so 
sorry  I  said  that.  Only,  you  know,  your  words 
about  my  charming  complexion  were  simply  hor- 
rid, and  I  got  very  angry  because  I  am  nervous 
and  irritable  to-day.  Oh,  dear  me,  how  awfully 
personal  this  conversation  is  !  " 

Horrified,  I  felt  that  tears  were  not  far  off. 

"  Would  it  not  be  better  to  end  it  ?  I  regret 
extremely  that  I  have  annoyed  you  when  you 
were  already  tired." 

"  No,  sit  down ;  somehow  you  are  different 
from  what  I  had  thought."  I  must  convince 
Mr.  Earle  that  I  was  not  rattled. 

I  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  reaching  forward, 
pushed  one  toward  my  visitor.  He  took  it  with 
a  grave,  "  Thank  you." 

"Are  you  going  to  the  Opera  to-night?"  I 
asked,  in  a  desperate  attempt  to  say  something 
upon  safe  ground. 

"  No,  I  think  not.     I'm  going  to  a  dinner  at 


December.  151 

Van  Voorts',  and  that  means  cards  afterwards, 
you  know." 

I  leaned  forward,  eagerly,  conventionality  once 
more  forgotten. 

"  There,  Mr.  Earle !  That  is  one  of  the  things 
you  do  which  I  don't  like."  The  words  were 
barely  out  when  I  regretted  them. 

"  I  am  flattered  at  your  interest,  really.  Oh, 
no,  don't  think  I  am  speaking  sarcastically.  I 
am  not,  I  assure  you.  Mrs.  Woodward,  if  I 
may  be  as  frank  as  yourself,  may  I  ask  if  you 
actually  never  play  ?  " 

"  Cards  for  money  ?  Never.  I  am  sure  no 
nice  woman  ever  does.  "  There  was  antagonism 
in  my  voice. 

"  Take  care !  We  both  know  many."  Mr. 
Earle  was  frowning. 

"  They  are  not  nice  when  they  play,  and  ask 
young  men  like  you  to  play.  So  there !  Fancy 
accepting  money  from  a  boy  like  you !  " 

I  was  dreadfully  in  earnest.  Mr.  Earle 
laughed. 

"  If  I  am  a  boy,  you  are  hardly  a  grown  girl. 
Well,  Mrs.  Woodward,  some  women  do  not  ac- 
cept the  money.  I  know  one  who  requested  a 
couple  of  diamonds  instead."  He  looked  at  me 
quizzically. 

"  You  don't ! — I  mean,  how  could  anyone  be 
so  awful  ?  And  did  you  get  them  for  her  ?  " 


152  Dainty  Devils. 

"  I  wasn't  the  man.    But  the  man  did." 

"  I  should  think  her  husband  might  have  pro- 
tested." 

Mr.  Earle  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He,  and 
a  few  other  men,  do  it  gracefully. 

"  Husbands  don't  seem  to  trouble  themselves 
much  now-a-days  about  the  little  peculiarities  of 
their  wives." 

"  Mr.  Earle !  "  I  spoke  very  severely.  He  cer- 
tainly knew  better  of  Jack.  Not  that  I  have  ever 
put  Jack  to  the  test,  but  still— 

"  There  are  a  few  shining  exceptions,  as  there 
are  a  few  exceptional  wives."  This  with  his 
conventional  manner  and  bow  to  me. 

"  Oh,"  I  exclaimed,  impatiently,  "  I  don't  like 
you  a  bit  when  you  descend  to  miserable,  thread- 
bare compliments.  Why  don't  you  stay  angry 
and  on  your  dignity  ?  " 

"  You  think  anger  becoming?  "  very  gravely. 

"  I  consider  it  at  least  manly,  provided  it 
be  exhibited  in  the  right  place,  and  under  perfect 
control." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  implied  compliment.  I 
admit  that  you  are  more  subtle  and  graceful 
in  flattery  than  any  man  could  hope  to  be.  Let 
me  tell  you  one  thing — although  I  play  poker 
or  bridge,  often  most  of  the  night,  I'm  not  pas- 
sionately fond  of  cards.  To  be  candid,  I  gener- 
ally lose,  and  my  income  is  not  so  enormous  that 


December.  153 

I  can  remain  unmoved  by  a  loss.  At  the  present 
time,  an  invitation  to  dinner,  particularly  where 
a  man  is  well-acquainted,  almost  invariably  means 
the  obligation  of  playing  cards  afterwards ;  so," 
smiling,  "  I  fill  my  pockets  with  small  bills, 
and  invoke  the  imps  that  the  ante  may  be  low." 

"  Why  aren't  you  man  enough  to  refuse  ?  " 

"  When  a  woman  puts  the  invitation?  Do  you 
understand  men  so  slightly  as  that,  Mrs.  Wood- 
ward ? "  Mr.  Earle  was  leaning  forward,  all 
attention,  and  even  my  sensitiveness  could  no 
longer  detect  any  banter  in  his  voice  or  man- 
ner. 

"  And  you'd  let  your  wife  give  such  invita- 
tions?" I  asked,  earnestly. 

Mr.  Earle  shifted  upon  his  chair. 

"  I  am  not  married,"  he  said,  stiffly. 

"  You  will  be  some  day,"  I  urged.  How  would 
Marion  get  along  with  his  temper ! 

"  No,"  he  said,  shortly.  "  Never.  You  may 
take  my  word  for  that.  Anyway,"  frivolously, 
"  if  your  judgment  is  right,  I'm  not  fit  to  marry. 
You  know  you  hardly  wished  to  receive  me  to- 
day." 

"  I  think  I  have  already  sufficiently  apologized, 
Mr.  Earle,"  I  said,  feeling  that  this  handsome 
boy  was  rather  getting  the  better  of  me.  It  did 
not  seem  as  if  Marion  would  be  invited  to  ex- 
periment with  the  temper. 


1 54  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Why  should  you  apologize,  come  to  think  of 
it?  No  one  can  like  everybody.  I  hate  a  few 
people  most  cordially — Worst  of  all  an  aged  dow- 
ager who  glares  at  me  regularly  whenever  I 
meet  her,  from  the  aggressive  fortress  of  a  dizzy 
pink  gown." 

"  Dizzy  pink,"  I  repeated,  laughing ;  "  what 
may  that  mean,  Mr.  Earle  ?  " 

Percy  Earle  laughed  heartily. 

"  Well,  you  might  not  find  the  color  mentioned 
by  that  name  in  the  shops,  Mrs.  Woodward.  But 
don't  you  know  the  shade  I  mean?  That 
offensive,  blazing  pink  which  somehow  makes 
one's  head  swim  to  look  at?  It  gives  me  the 
nearest  sensation  to  being  dizzy,  of  anything  I 
know ;  particularly  when  a  withered  old  creature 
audaciously  dons  it." 

"  Yes,  I  do  know  the  shade  you  mean.  I  never 
wear  it." 

"  No,  I  should  fancy  not.  You  hardly  fit  into 
the  description  of  a  withered  old  woman." 

"  Mr.  Earle,"  I  exclaimed,  "  you  seem  to  be 
perpetually  laughing  at  me." 

Mr.  Earle  bit  his  lip,  but  not  before  I  caught 
his  smile. 

"  I  should  never  dare  make  fun  of  you,  Mrs. 
Woodward ;  you  command  too  much  respect." 

"  As  though  I  could  accept  that  in  earnest 
while  your  eyes  are  wriggling  with  amusement ! 


December.  155 

Tell  me,"  suddenly,  "  have  you  seen  Marion  La- 
Grange  recently  ?  "  I  was  still  considering  the 
temper. 

"  Let  me  think.  No,  not  since  the  cotillion  at 
Robertsons'.  Actually  four  days  ago." 

"  She's  beautiful,  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  dispassionately.  No  temper  of  any 
sort  visible  now. 

"  If  I  were  a  man  I'd  fall  in  love  with  her," 
I  persisted. 

Percy  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"  I  believe  several  men  have  felt  that  way," 
said  he. 

I  sighed  in  despair;  it  was  only  too  plainly 
evident  that  Marion  was  of  no  interest  whatever 
to  Percy  Earle. 

"  What  made  you   sigh,   Mrs.   Woodward  ?  " 

"  Oh,  men  are  such  fools,"  I  said,  recklessly. 

"  For  loving  Marion  LaGrange  ?  Isn't  that 
rather  inconsistent  after  declaring  if  you  were 
a  man  you  would  fall  in  love  with  her  yourself?  " 

My  lips  parted  to  say  most  injudicious  words. 
There  was  some  fever  in  the  atmosphere  which 
was  precipitating  me  into  unreckoning  candor. 
I  wonder  what  would  have  been  the  result  had 
I  said  to  Mr.  Earle,  "  You  are  the  particular 
fool  I  have  in  mind,  because  you  don't  love  her?  " 
What  would  society  be  like  if  every  one  upon  all 
j  occasions  told  "  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and 


156  Dainty  Devils. 

jiothing_but_the  truth!  "  I  quail  before  the  pic- 
ture. 

Conventionality  interposed  in  the  form  of  Cros- 
son  with  the  tea-tray.  Did  the  wretch  have 
a  surmising  expression  upon  his  face  because  I 
sat  leaning  forward  upon  my  chair  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  remark  I  had  nearly  made?  I 
straightened  up  and  leaned  back  hastily.  It  was 
a  sign  of  Percy  Earle's  self-possession  and  savoir 
faire  that  he  remained  in  his  quizzing,  nonchal- 
ant position,  his  elbow  upon  his  knee,  and  his  chin 
resting  upon  his  hand.  I  felt  myself  flushing 
at  the  silly  start  I  had  given. 

"  You  will  have  tea  with  me  ?  "  I  managed  to 
say,  sincerely  hoping  he  would.  And  to  think 
that  I  was  beginning  to  like  him ! 

"  Thank  you,"  springing  up.  "  I  can't.  I  had 
no  idea  it  was  so  late.  I  promised  to  drop  in 
at  Mrs.  Allison's." 

Very  disconsolately,  had  he  only  known  it,  I 
accepted  his  adieu.  I  wished  devoutly  that  he 
had  been  going  anywhere  else  rather  than  to 
Lou's. 

"  May  I  come  again  ?  "  he  asked,  gaily. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  seriously ;  "  whenever  you 
like." 

Jack  found  me  with  the  untouched  tea  before 
me. 


December.  157 

"  Well !  Had  visitors  ?  And  weren't  they 
nice?" 

I  kissed  him  rather  absently. 

"  Only  one — Percy  Earle.  He's  different  from 
what  I  thought." 

I  am  sure  it  is  all  Lou's  fault:  which  may  be 
the  severity  of  one  woman  upon  another,  to  be 
sure,  and  yet  I  do  not  know. 

There  were  two  reasons  why  I  did  not  tell 
Jack  about  Belle's  visit  to  a  pawn-broker.  First, 
it  would  not  be  honorable  to  betray  what  she 
certainly  considered  a  confidence ;  second,  it 
would  have  humiliated  me  too  painfully  to  admit 
that  one  of  my  sex  was  so  lacking  in  womanly 
respect  and  reserve.  Had  anyone  related  the 
story  to  me,  I  should  have  said  my  credulity  was 
not  equal  to  the  strain  of  believing  it.  As 
it  is,  I  cannot  deny  what  I  have  seen  and  heard. 
I  am  wofully  disappointed  all  around:  I  ex- 
pected New  York  society  to  be  something  extra- 
ordinarily fine  and  elevated.  The  facts  force  me 
to  confess  that  Belle  St.  John  would  be  a  pitiable 
mesalliance  for,  well,  Rube  Stevens ;  while 
most  of  the  others  I  know,  would  be  com- 
pelled to  move  out  of  Gray  town  if  ever  they 
attempted  to  domicile  themselves  there,  because 
morals  at  home  are  still  in  the  old-fashioned, 
intact  state  produced  by  the  preaching  of  the 
Ten  Commandments  to  people  who  believe  they 


158  Dainty  Devils. 

have  souls.  And  the  scintillations  produced 
here  by  the  clashing  of  old  ideas  with  new  de- 
fiance of  them,  would  in  such  communities,  be 
considered  as  nothing  less  than  prophetic  gleams 

from  the  awful  fire  which  burns  in  Hell. 

******* 

In  the  soul  of  Mrs.  Alexander  Robertson 
there  can  be  but  two  highly-developed  attributes  : 
the  first,  self-indulgence ;  the  second, — co-equal 
in  all  things,  although  of  necessity  separately 
named — the  faculty  of  hoodwinking  her  husband. 
Mr.  Robertson  is  piously  inclined,  conscientious 
if  not  intellectual,  and  while  not  always  openly 
opposed  to  his  wife's  proceedings  and  mode  of 
life,  at  least  dazedly  miserable  and  uneasy  under 
many  of  her  doings.  Mr.  Robertson  possesses, 
for  instance,  a  deeply  grounded  prejudice  against 
what  he  designates  the  "  profanation  of  the  Sab- 
bath." Well  and  good,  says  Mrs.  Robertson. 
The  Sabbath  shall  not  be  profaned.  Alex- 
ander stolidly  but  persistently  protesting  against 
dinner-giving  upon  Sunday,  as  contrary  to  the 
spirit  of  a  holy  and  recollected  Lord's  Day,  Mrs. 
Robertson  calmly  assents  to  the  taboo,  in  letter 
if  not  in  spirit,  and  issues  written  invitations 
for  a  supper  at  ten  o'clock,  on  Sunday  evening 
next.  Surely  a  supper  is  not  a  dinner,  particu- 
larly when  partaken  of  at  the  chastened  hour  of 
ten  at  night ! 


December.  159 

"  Shall  we  eat  anything  between  luncheon  at 
half-past  one  and  that  supper  at  ten,  Jack  ?  " 

"  You'd  better,  Dot.  Make  your  five  o'clock 
tea  rather  substantial,  and  I'll  join  you  at  it." 

Probably  it  is  odd  that  no  scruple  prevented 
my  accepting  what  was  for  me  such  a  novel 
invitation.  The  explanation  lies  in  the  fact  that 
I  ignorantly  pictured  a  nice  innocent  little  meal 
with  hot  biscuits,  or  waffles  maybe,  such  as  Lame 
Ann  triumphantly  set  before  us  when  Uncle  Dai- 
ton  or  a  couple  of  College  Professors  called  Sun- 
day afternoon — and  remained  so  late  that  Ann, 
provided  she  was  in  good  humor,  would  not  have 
them  depart  fasting.  The  good  humor  lacking, 
it  was  Ann's  scheme  to  light  no  lamps,  and  by 
this  means  have  darkness  remind  the  visitors 
that  it  was  time  to  go  home.  No  one  questioned 
Anna's  decision,  neither  father,  visitors,  nor  I. 

At  half-after-nine,  decorously  gowned  in  blue 
broadcloth  of  tailor-make,  I  appeared  before 
Jack  in  his  den.  He  glanced  up  from  a  book 
and  stared  in  an  uncomplimentary  fashion  at  my 
faultless  costume. 

"  Hello !    You'd  better  dress." 

"  Why,  isn't  this  good  enough  ?  " 

"  Good  enough !  Don't  you  know  we're  going 
to  Robertsons'  supper?  Mrs.  Robertson  would 
fancy  you  had  dressed  for  a  funeral." 

"  Certainly  I  know  we  are  going.     Do  you 


160  Dainty  Devils. 

mean,"  incredulously,  "  I  ought  to  wear  an  even- 
ing-gown? It's  Sunday,  Jack." 

"  If  you're  going,  dear,  you  must  dress  as  for 
any  dinner." 

I  stood  still,  shocked,  although  for  the  life 
of  me,  I  could  not  have  told  exactly  why.  Father 
positively  had  not  brought  me  up  a  Puritan. 

"What's  the  trouble,  little  one?"  Jack  tossed 
away  his  cigar  and  stood  up.  "  You  know  you 
needn't  go  if  you  don't  want  to.  For  my  part 
I  can't  see  where  the  harm  comes  in." 

"  No,"  I  said,  rather  softly  and  meekly.  "  I'll 
be  ready  in  ten  minutes.  If — if  I  don't  like  it, 
I  needn't  go  again." 

Jack  made  some  remark  which  I  did  not  hear, 
because,  nervous  at  the  idea  that  we  should  in 
all  probability  be  late,  I  was  flying  up  the  stairs. 
I  am  possessed  of  a  blind  terror  of  Mrs.  Robert- 
son's well-known  temper;  and  we  should  be 
tardy  at  a  time  when  it  was  a  question  of  things 
to  eat,  I  gravely  reflected. 

Perkins  did  not  stare  very  much  when  I  per- 
emptorily ordered  my  white  crepe  de  Chine.  Of 
all  my  evening  gowns  it  is  the  least  gorgeous; 
and  still  under  the  influence  of  some  inborn  dis- 
approval of  giddy  clothes  upon  Sunday,  I  com- 
promised with  my  murmuring  conscience  by  un- 
hesitatingly choosing  the  simplest  thing  I  have, 
that  would  be  considered  correct  at  dinner.  For 


December.  161 

I  sternly  told  myself  that  Mrs.  Robertson's  invi- 
tations had  been  written  lies. 

While  being  hooked  and  pinned  and  buttoned 
into  evening  clothes,  I  fumed  within  at  the  delay 
my  toilet  was  causing.  Woman's  obligations  to 
costume  are  a  warning  to  man  not  to  riot 
to  any  great  extent  in  recent  additions  to  the 
form,  color  or  texture  of  his  practical-for-all- 
purposes  attire,  which  has  served  so  well  and 
so  satisfactorily  several  generations  of  his  kind. 
Jack  has  taken  up  with  many  innovations 
since  the  first  day  I  knew  him  in  Graytown,  little 
dreaming  what  trouble  he  is  laying  up  for  him- 
self. How  much  handsomer  he  is  in  strictly 
black,  white  or  gray  things  !  Perhaps  Rube  Stev- 
ens spoiled  me  for  admiration  of  colored  waist- 
coats and  other  togs.  I  never  see  gay  clothes 
upon  a  man  without  fancying  I  hear  the  jingle 
of  Rube's  jewelry.  He  was  exactly  like  a  poor, 
ignorant,  brainless  girl  prancing  to  the  accompan- 
iment of  her  tinkling  tin  bangles  and  chains. 

Quite  flustered,  I  reached  Jack's  den  as  the 
clock  struck  ten. 

"  I  couldn't  be  any  quicker,  somehow." 

"That's  all  right.  We'll  be  there  in  ten 
minutes." 

But  one  horse  lost  a  shoe,  and  the  streets  were 
icy.  Fifth  Avenue  was  so  crowded  with  vehicles 
that  we  got  into  almost  a  hopeless  block,  and  it 
II 


162  Dainty  Devils. 

was  a  good  half-hour  before  we  stepped  inside 
Mrs.  Robertson's  door. 

There  is  a  delicate  consolation,  a  subtle  en- 
couragement, in  finding  other  guests  in  the  room 
where  one  removes  her  wraps.  This  time  two 
disengaged  maids  stepped  forward  as  I  entered. 
My  heart  sank.  I  was  surely  the  last  one,  and 
all  the  rest  had  gone  downstairs.  Twice  between 
the  mirror  and  the  door  I  dropped  my  fan.  The 
second  time,  the  maid  bestowed  upon  me  a  humil- 
iating glance  of  pity. 

Silently  I  took  Jack's  arm.  Laughter  and 
many  voices  were  floating  gayly  through  the 
house.  As  we  descended,  the  notes  of  a  Neapol- 
itan orchestra  of  violins  and  mandolins  trembled 
and  kling-klanged  in  the  familiar  contradictory 
and  inconsistent  fashion,  from  behind  some  the- 
atrical palms — I  mean  they  were  the  so-called 
preserved  ones,  not  genuinely  sprouting  things, 
— at  the  back  of  the  great  hall.  Involuntarily  I 
paused.  It  was  Sunday,  and  the  mandolins 
sounded  so  very  frivolous  and  irreverent.  Ah! 
A  boy's  voice  began  the  "  Holy  City." 

"  How  beautiful,"  I  whispered,  my  emotions 
instantly  changing,  and  my  conscience  oddly 
soothed. 

A  loud  peal  of  merriment  jarred  into  the  sweet 
soprano  voice.  Lou  Allison's  laugh  was  recog- 
nizable before  we  entered  the  drawing-room  and 


December.  163 

Mrs.  Robertson  greeted  us.  The  latter  was  a 
spectacle  to  jar  the  brain  of  anybody  seriously 
inclined  to  the  artistic.  Her  garments  were  a 
medley  of  purple  and  poppy  red,  and  immense 
lumps  of  jet  apparently  thrown  at  the  gown  from 
a  distance  and  then  made  fast  wherever  they 
struck.  A  great  bunch  of  artificial  flowers  was 
attached  to  her  coiffure  above  the  left  ear.  Evi- 
dently she  had  essayed  a  fuchsia  color  scheme — 
with  her  flaming  fuchsia  complexion!  Then 
her  hair  was  low  on  her  neck,  and  her  head  is 
quite  too  thick  through,  without  that. 

The  whole  scene,  as  it  burst  upon  us,  was  a 
glaring  travesty  upon  the  hymn  being  sung  out- 
side. About  twenty  people  were  waiting  the 
announcement  for  supper,  all  in  evening-dress, 
all  talking  and  flirting  and  jesting,  paying  no 
attention  whatever  to  the  music,  speaking  rather 
more  loudly  and  boisterously  in  order  to  be  heard 
above  the  singing  and  accompaniment.  Our  hos- 
tess was  plainly  provoked  because  we  were  late. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  got  here  at  last,"  she 
shouted,  completely  drowning  the  .singers'  cres- 
cendo. 

I  bowed  silently  and  with  becoming  humility, 
glad  that  I  need  not  undertake  an  apology  while 
the  singing  continued. 

"  Mr.  Van  Voort  will  take  you  in,"  said  Mrs. 
Robertson  in  the  same  tone.  Here  the  music 


164  Dainty  Devils. 

sank  to  an  unexpected  diminuendo  and  the  last 
three  words  burst  upon  the  company  like  three 
shrill  Indian  yells.  A  young  girl  laughed,  and 
Mrs.  Robertson  flushed  angrily. 

Was  it  spite  which  impelled  her  to  assign  to 
me  Mr.  Van  Voort?  We  harmonize  like  oil  and 
water.  I  relinquished  Jack  and  saw  him  allotted 
the  doubtful  pleasure  of  Addie  Layton's  society. 
Mr.  Van  Voort,  bowing  from  the  waist  so 
that  his  body  was  fairly  kinked,  presented  his 
arm  to  me,  and  I  was  resignedly  moving  down 
the  drawing-room  with  him,  when  an  elderly 
dowager  stood  suddenly  in  front  of  us.  She  was 
a  hideous  old  creature  in  low-necked  white  satin 
of  cheap  texture  and  rather  soiled.  She  wore 
a  brown  wig  too  far  back  upon  her  head,  and 
a  little  dot  of  rouge  upon  each  cheek-bone. 

"  So  you're  the  young  person  that  has  kept  us 
all  waiting !  "  said  she,  severely.  "  What  made 
you  so  late  ?  " 

"  Mamma !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Robertson,  dash- 
ing at  the  old  woman  and  looking  embarrassed 
for  the  first  and  only  time  in  my  acquaintance 
with  her.  Her  own  displeasure  had  at  least 
not  reached  quite  such  freedom  as  this. 

I  gasped  and  stammered,  while  Mr.  Van  Voort 
undisguisedly  giggled.  Never  before  had  I  heard 
of  Mrs.  Robertson's  mother. 

"  Mrs.  Woodward  is  an  important  personage, 


December.  165 

you  know,"  said  Van  Voort,  in  his  thin,  silly 
voice,  "  and  for  such,  one  is  always  delighted  to 
wait." 

He  dragged  me  on,  giggling  continuously. 

"  Beastly  old  creature,"  he  confided.  "  Won't 
give  any  one  a  cent,  and  is  as  rich  as  the  devil. 
Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon,  you  know.  Hear  you're 
awfully  proper  and  easily  shocked.  Must  get 
over  it,  Mrs.  Woodward.  Watch  my  wife  and 
Belle  St.  John.  There's  no  shocking  those  two 
girls,  you  know.  I  tell  Alice  I  don't  know  who 
is  the  greater  case — she  or  her  chum  Belle." 

Though  only  momentary,  it  was  an  apprecia- 
ble relief  to  be  looking  for  my  place  and  able 
to  drop  Mr.  Van  Voort's  arm.  There  were  two 
round  tables  in  the  dining-room,  each  a  perfect 
fantasy  of  roses,  pink-shaded  lights,  silver  and 
gold.  Four  men  in  Mrs.  Robertson's  fantastic 
livery,  stood  waiting  to  serve  this  Sunday-night 
supper.  I  forgot  Mr.  Van  Voort's  maddening 
grin  and  his  ugly  little  moustache,  while  I  dis- 
covered that  Mr.  Allison  would  sit  at  my  left, 
and  Percy  Earle  directly  opposite  me.  Jack  was 
at  the  other  table,  a  disappointment  that  was 
materially  ameliorated  by  the  fact  that  the 
awful  dowager  in  white  satin  was  also  assigned 
to  the  table  at  which  I  was  not.  This  arrange- 
ment was  undoubtedly  not  without  purpose. 
Mrs.  Robertson  had  found  it  desirable  to  main- 


166  Dainty  Devils. 

tain  a  grip,  as  it  were,  upon  her  uncertain  and 
erratic  maternal  ancestor.  Mr.  Robertson,  a 
very  silent  and  abstracted  host,  was  at  our 
table.  Apparently  there  was  nothing  to  his 
taste;  for  every  line  in  his  severe  face  por- 
trayed acute  disapproval  from  the  moment  the 
first  course  was  served,  and  his  expression  of 
condemnation  steadily  intensified  as  the  dinner 
wore  on. 

"  Robertson's  enough  to  give  one  indigestion, 
isn't  he,  Mrs.  Woodward  ? "  Van  Voort  whis- 
pered, holding  a  stalk  of  celery  before  his  mouth 
— and  if  it  did  not  exactly  match  his  moustache ! 

"  I  prefer  him  to — "  I  almost  said  "  you,"  and 
barely  tripped  myself  up  in  time  to  substitute, 
"  some  others." 

"  To  the  mother-in-law  for  instance  ?  He-he- 
he!  She's  a  fierce  old  screw,  and  cares  for 
nothing  but  saving  money.  Lives  in  a  hole  of 
a  place  in  Maine,  and  when  she  swoops  upon  her 
daughter  in  New  York,  she  appears  in  evening 
togs  bought  second-hand.  Why,  it  was  her  cru- 
elty and  miserliness  that  made  her  daughter  take 
old  Robertson.  She  made  the  girl  do  housework, 
as  though  she  needed  to  save,  you  know."  Mr. 
Van  Voort  wrinkled  his  face  up  until  he  was  a 
perfect  counterpart  of  the  biggest  monkey  in 
Central  Park.  "  What  a  beastly  bore  it  must 


December.  167 

be  to  bother  about  money !  Fancy  having  to 
scrimp !  " 

"  I  needn't  fancy  having  to  save.  I'm  sure," 
sweetly,  "  that  Mrs.  Van  Voort  has  told  you  we 
were  obliged  to  live  very  economically  at  home. 
The  necessity  has  been  stern  reality  in  my  case." 
Then  with  a  gold  fork  and  spoon,  I  helped  my- 
self mechanically  to  sweet  breads  aux  truffes. 

Mr.  Van  Voort  stared  blankly.  If,  in  his 
ethics,  it  is  idiocy  to  be  poor,  it  is  greater  idiocy 
to  acknowledge  the  shameful  fact.  Mr.  Allison, 
was  laughing  heartily,  but  quietly,  at  my  left. 
The  two  men  can  not  love  each  other  to  any 
great  extent :  when  they  met,  they  merely  bowed 
distantly  instead  of  shaking  hands  as  I  saw  all 
the  other  men  do. 

"  Isn't  it  strange,"  I  asked,  thinking  aloud, 
"  that  the  LaGranges  aren't  here  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,  you  know.  Marion  won't  go  any- 
where but  to  church  on  Sunday.  Dead  slow, 
anyway,  isn't  she  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  I  returned,  showing  my 
vexation.  "  She  is  simply  above  your  power  of 
comprehension." 

"  Oh — ah — Come  now ! — It  must  be  below, 
don't  you  think  ?  " 

"  That  would  be  impossible,  Mr.  Van  Voort." 

"  Oh,  my,  but  you're  a  termagant !  I  pity 
Woodward !  Upon  my  soul  I  do !  " 


1 68  Dainty  Devils. 

It  was  no  use  to  flare  up.  I  had  been  rude 
and  quick-tempered  and  the  first  fault  lay  with 
me.  Not  in  the  least  offended,  Mr.  Van  Voort 
devoted  himself  tenderly  and  lingeringly  to  a 
pate,  and  I  lost  my  anger  in  speculating  as  to 
whether  Marion  would  cease  to  respect  me  be- 
cause I  had  gone  to  Mrs.  Robertson's  supper. 
I  am  acquiring  the  tendency  of  regarding  my- 
self in  the  light  of  Marion's  conscience,  instead 
of  my  own.  It  is  not  so  comfortable  as  the  old 
way.  The  changing  of  plates  brought  me  out 
of  an  untimely  revery.  Van  Voort,  beaming 
under  the  spell  of  another  rich  and  delectable 
dish,  was  once  more  a  picture  of  grinning  amia- 
bility. 

Two  hours  we  sat  at  table,  and  as  champagne 
again  and  again  ceased  to  sparkle  in  the  glasses, 
it  appeared  to  dance  bewilderingly  in  the  guests' 
heads.  Higher  and  more  hilarious  waxed  the 
spirits  of  the  company.  The  Neapolitan  musi- 
cians played  at  intervals — only  to  fulfill  their  con- 
tract, I  am  sure,  for  no  one  listened;  two 
or  three  times  the  boy-soprano  sang.  Suddenly, 
as  he  began  the  first  verse  of  Neidlinger's  Ser- 
enade, Mrs.  Robertson's  mother  rose  threaten- 
ingly. In  leaving  her  seat  she  overturned  a 
couple  of  glasses,  an  accident  which  did  not  in 
the  least  disconcert  her.  Possibly  because  they 
were  empty. 


December.  169 

"  Have  that  music  stopped/'  she  cried :  "  it's 
Sunday." 

"  Pardon  me,  mamma,  it's  a  quarter  past 
twelve,  and  therefore  Monday  morning."  Mrs. 
Robertson,  with  all  her  coarse  braggadocio  man- 
ner was  afraid  of  her  rattle-brained  mother. 
What  a  very  palpable  sort  of  a  family-skeleton 
to  be  afflicted  with  ! 

"  Oh,  how  scandalous !  At  dinner  half  the 
night!" 

But  the  old  lady  was  befuddled  even  a  trifle 
more  than  nature  had  intended,  and  dropped  back 
harmlessly  in  her  seat  to  drink  one  more  glass 
of  champagne. 

The  heat  in  the  dining-room  was  stifling.  All 
the  women  whose  hair  did  not  curl  naturally 
began  to  look  stringy  about  the  forehead.  This 
over-heating  is  a  frequent  cause  of  misery  at 
New  York  functions.  Upon  each  occasion  it  calls 
forth,  as  though  it  were  something  quite  new, 
complaints  and  growls  innumerable;  but  it  never 
fails  to  be  an  adjunct  of  the  very  next  entertain- 
ment one  attends — which  recalls  a  remark  I  heard 
Percy  Earle  make  to  Jack : 

"  Did  you  assist  at  the  Bayley-Taylor  wed- 
ding? "  asked  Jack. 

"  No,  old  man,"  was  Percy's  reply,  "  I  per- 
spired at  it." 

Besides  the  heat,  the  heavy  perfume  of  several 


170  Dainty  Devils. 

hundreds  of  roses  had  made  the  atmosphere  so 
intensely  oppressive  that  I  found  myself  growing 
sleepy,  and  was  seeking  comfort  in  the  thought 
that  I  could  not  possibly  be  affected  by  the  wine 
for  the  best  of  reasons — I  had  not  taken  any — 
when  suddenly  I  became  interested  and  wide- 
awake. 

"  Go  on,  Percy.    Tell  it." 

"  No,  Addie ;  I  don't  enjoy  discussing  my  rel- 
atives." This,  turning  slightly  in  his  chair :  for 
Mrs.  Layton  was  next  to  Jack  at  the  other  table. 

"  If  you  don't,  I  will." 

"  That  I  can't  help."  Percy  scowled  om- 
inously. Mrs.  Layton  gave  an  excited  laugh. 

"  You  all  know  Lil,  my  sister  who  married 
the  Philadelphian  ?  "  Several  chuckled  an  affirm- 
ative ;  probably  Lil  was  a  good  sort. 

"  Well,  perhaps  you  haven't  forgotten  her  prize 
St.  Bernard?" 

"  Of  course  not,"  piped  Mr.  Van  Voort,  eag- 
erly. "  I  wish  she'd  sell  it  to  me." 

"  She  might  be  willing  just  now.  Lil's  very 
fond  of  going  about,  you  know,  and  staying  at 
home  with  her  young  infant  hasn't  pleased  her 
particularly.  Well,  that  St.  Bernard  dog  was 
madly  devoted  to  the  baby  from  the  first  day, 
and  remained  day  and  night  beside  the  crib  until, 
when  Lil's  child  was  three  weeks  old,  some  pup- 
pies arrived.  Then  the  trouble  began.  The  dog 


December.  171 

seemed  half-frantic  between  devotion  to  Lil's 
baby  and  to  its  own  puppies,  and  would  trot  up 
and  down  the  stairs  dozens  of  times  every  day 
to  look  first  at  the  doggies  and  then  at  the  child." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  "  exclaimed  Van  Voort,  who 
had  apparently  been  begrudging  Lil  this  dog  for 
some  time.  "  What  an  extraordinary  beast !  " 

Mrs.  Layton  was  warming  up  to  her  subject. 
This  was  the  first  occasion  upon  which  I  had  ever 
seen  her  show  any  animation  except  along  the  line 
of  petulancy.  Query :  Is  champagne  really  good 
for  such  characters?  Perhaps,  only  the  reaction 
next  day  is  liable  to  be  extreme.  Fancy  Addie 
Layton  crosser  and  more  discontented  than  she 
is  normally ! 

"  Extraordinary,  and  very  exciting  it  proved. 
When  the  baby  was  six  weeks  old,  and  the  pup- 
pies three,  Lil  wanted  to  go  to  a  ball."  Mrs. 
Layton  paused;  after  a  second  she  resumed  in 
a  tone  calculated  to  dig  into  the  conscience  of 
every  married  man  present.  "  She  has  a  most 
exacting  husband,  and  is  terribly  afraid  of  him, 
poor  child ! "  The  sigh  was  deep,  and  a  scath- 
ing glance  flashed  across  to  Mr.  Layton,  who 
wilted  most  gratifyingly.  "  Now  the  infant's 
nurse,  like  all  servants,  managed  to  have  a 
relative  die  on  the  day  of  the  ball,  and  Lil  was 
in  a  quandary.  Her  husband  had  laid  down  an 
iron  rule  that  either  she  or  the  nurse  must  be  with 


172  Dainty  Devils. 

the  baby  day  and  night.  Easily  understood  with 
the  first !  "  Another  sigh,  and  I  immediately  ex- 
pected to  hear  something  about  the  "  five  help- 
less children ; "  however,  Mrs.  Layton  must  have 
alluded  to  them  inaudibly,  for  she  went  on  with 
the  story. 

"  Lil  decided  to  say  nothing  about  the  nurse's 
absence,  as  her  husband  in  his  unreasonable  way 
would  have  insisted  upon  her  stay  ing  at  home,  and 
told  her  maid  that  she  must  remain  in  the  nur- 
sery all  night.  She  was  under  no  circumstances 
to  leave  the  baby  alone." 

I  began  to  wonder  whether  Mrs.  Layton  had 
forgotten  the  St.  Bernard  doggie  of  which  I  was 
longing  to  hear  more. 

"  Everything  nicely  arranged,  Lil  departed  for 
the  ball,  leaving  the  French  maid  stationed  at 
the  crib.  Lil  says  she  had  a  perfectly  glorious 
time,  and  forgot  all  about  the  youngster.  But 
when  she  and  Arthur  came  home  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  they  found  their  baby  gone." 

"  Mercy ! "  cried  one  of  the  young  girls,  and 
indeed  everybody  started,  even  the  men,  except 
Percy  Earle,  who  did  not  seem  to  relish  the  re- 
cital at  all.  Mrs.  Layton  was  enjoying  her  own 
story  immensely.  She  Sat  abstractedly,  creasing 
her  napkin  into  little  pleats,  her  eyes  brilliant, 
her  small  face  animated  and  flushed. 

"  Picture  the  household !    The  maid  had  been 


December.  173 

entertaining  her  sweetheart  in  the  lower  hall 
till  twelve  o'clock,  when  he  went  on  duty  as 
somebody's  night-watchman.  She  went  up  to  the 
nursery  then,  to  find  the  coverings  of  the  crib 
all  in  disorder,  and  the  baby  gone.  Of  course 
she  waked  the  household,  and  when  Lil  and  Ar- 
thur returned,  the  place  was  illuminated,  and  a 
set  of  crazy  servants  awaited  them.  The  French 
maid  had  been  struck  by  the  cook  for  her  care- 
lessness, and  was  on  her  knees  vowing  all  kinds 
of  penance  if  the  baby  were  found,  while  she  held 
cracked  ice  against  the  eye  the  cook  had  almost 
put  out ! " 

"Did  they  find  the  child?"  Mrs.  Robertson 
asked,  in  a  bored  voice. 

"  Arthur  tore  around  like  a  maniac,  telegraphed 
the  police  station,  and  then  began  to  run  through 
the  house.  It's  a  huge  place,  with  backstairs 
about  a  mile  from  the  front  ones,  but  as  he 
opened  the  door  to  the  lowest  flight,  Lil  stopped 
her  hysterics,  and  the  servants  their  praying 
and  wailing,  for  all  very  distinctly  heard  the  cry- 
ing of  a  baby." 

"  Where  was  it  ?  "  asked  half-a-dozen. 

"  In  the  basket  with  Donna  and  her  puppies, 
while  Donna  was  crying  to  it  in  great  distress." 

Various  exclamations  greeted  this  climax  of 
Mrs.  Layton's  dog-story,  which  certainly  was  a 


174  Dainty  Devils. 

compliment  to  Donna's  intelligence  and  maternal 
affection. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  Mr.  Allison,  in 
his  deliberate  way,  "  that  the  dog  heard  the  baby 
fretting  upstairs,  and  went  and  fetched  it  ?  " 

Mrs.  Layton  smiled  in  her  superior  manner. 
She  never  relaxes  her  lips  entirely,  and  the  re- 
sult is  a  small,  sarcastic  smirk.  Belle  St.  John 
says  Addie  has  lost  the  first  bicuspid  tooth  on 
the  left,  and  that  the  restricted  play  of  her  lips 
is  due  to  her  desire  to  hide  the  resulting  vacuum. 
Whatever  the  reason,  Addie's  abbreviated  smiles 
appear  perfectly  consistent  with  her  manner  and 
character. 

"  More  than  that,  Lil  says  that  whenever 
Donna  heard  the  infant  cry,  she  would  run  up- 
stairs to  inquire,  as  it  were,  what  was  wrong, 
and  invariably  stayed  away  from  the  puppies  till 
the  baby  was  quiet.  Upon  this  occasion,  the  pup- 
pies must  have  been  awake  and  crying  too,  and 
Donna,  torn  between  two  loves,  carried  the  baby 
down  to  her  own  family  so  that  she  could  man- 
age all  of  them  at  once.  But  wasn't  it  cute  ?  " 
She  appealed  to  Allison. 

"  It  was  more  than  cute,  it  was  motherly  be- 
yond—" 

Mrs.  Robertson's  mother  interrupted  Allison. 

"  That's  what  I  say,"  cried  she,  "  motherly  be- 
yond the  inhuman  mother  you  call  Lil.  Let  her 


December.  175 

learn  from  the  dog — and  be  thankful  for  the  op- 
portunity." 

This  outburst  brought  a  spasm  to  Mrs.  Robert- 
son's face,  and  a  well-meant  murmur  from  two 
or  three  of  the  guests  who  wished  to  drown, 
as  it  were,  the  shocking  remarks  by  hastening  to 
speak  of  something,  anything,  wide  of  the  un- 
lucky subject  which  had  started  the  half-crazy 
old  woman's  indignant  loquacity. 

"  I  was  about  to  say,"  Allison  went  on  calmly, 
"  that  the  dog  placed  herself  upon  a  higher  plane 
than  the  world  generally  allots  the  brute  crea- 
tion." 

"  The  mother  was  a  brute  to  leave  her  young 
baby  to  the  mercy  of  a  giddy  girl,  besides  act- 
ing a  lie  to  her  husband.  You'd  better  put  the 
mother  in  the  brute  creation,  and  the  dog  with 
the  human."  Mrs.  Robertson's  mamma  was  not 
to  be  extinguished,  and  if  her  thoughts  were  not 
lucid,  they  were  at  least  emphatic. 

Rising  in  clumsy  haste,  with  the  capability  of 
strangling  her  mother  in  her  eyes,  Mrs.  Robert- 
son spoke  in  a  suffocated  voice : 

"  Shall  we  not  leave  trie  men  to  themselves  ? " 

Percy  Earle,  Mr.  Van  Voort,  and  a  thin  young 
man  who  had  spoken  little  and  seemed  but  slight- 
ly acquainted  with  trie  party,  left  the  dining- 
room  with  the  rather  unfortunately  amused 
women.  Even  Mrs.  Robertson's  bosom  friends 


176  Dainty  Devils. 

rejoice  in  her  annoyance  at  times.  For  an  in- 
stant I  was  disappointed,  because  Jack  left  Mrs. 
Layton  at  the  door,  and  returned  to  the  mystic 
rite  of  the  men's  coffee  and  cigars.  Afterwards 
I  was  glad  he  did,  because  enough  remarks  have 
been  made  about  his  being  tied  to  my  apron- 
string. 

It  was  a  quarter-to-one.  Sunday  evening  was 
well  gone.  The  musicians  had  departed,  and  a 
sudden  stillness  settled  upon  the  house.  Ciga- 
rettes and  liqueurs  being  passed,  nearly  every 
woman  began  to  smoke,  and  smoking  checks  con- 
versation. Lou  Allison,  who  had  been  decidedly 
chagrined  at  being  separated  from  Percy  Earle 
all  through  the  supper,  claimed  him  now,  and 
they  slipped  into  one  of  the  far  corners  of  the 
immense  drawing-room,  from  which  now  and 
then  Lou's  cigarette  sent  out  light  wreaths  of 
smoke. 

Presently  Addie  Layton  began  to  fuss.  Re- 
pose is  not  in  her  line.  Sundry  bitings  of  the 
lips,  jerks  of  the  head,  workings  of  the  fingers, 
caused  me  to  wonder  what  was  worrying  her.  I 
soon  knew.  Layton  appearing  from  the  dining- 
room,  she  sprang  up  in  quite  a  tiger-like  fashion. 

"  I  told  you  to  come  in  five  minutes,"  she  com- 
plained, "  and  you've  been  all  of  fifteen." 

"  Sorry,  my  dear,"  was  the  meek  and  smiling 


December.  177 

return.  "  Are  you  really  in  such  haste  to  be 
off?" 

"  I'm  tired  to  death,"  in  a  very  aggrieved  tone. 
"  Men  never  think  of  anything  except  their  own 
amusement." 

Two  other  men  had  wandered  in,  after  Lay- 
ton,  and  their  wives  taking  the  cue  from  Addie, 
Mrs.  Robertson's  guests  were  rapidly  reduced  by 
six.  I  fancied  the  hostess  appeared  glad  of 
their  departure.  Mrs.  Robertson  is  a  woman 
who  flourishes  best  when  in  the  society  of  only 
the  most  congenial  spirits — few  and  choice,  but 
of  the  right  vintage. 

No  one  bothered  about  conversing  with  me 
during  the  general  lull  which  again  prevailed  in 
the  drawing-room,  and  glancing  idly  about  I 
soon  found  myself  watching  the  thin  young  man 
who  was  a  good  deal  of  a  stranger  to  his  sur- 
roundings. I  knew  he  was  a  cousin  of  Marion 
LaGrange's  mother,  a  boy  but  a  few  months  from 
a  country-town,  and  my  heart  went  out  to  him 
in  sincerest  sympathy:  we  were  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent companions  in  misery.  The  self-assured 
young  girl  whom  he  had  taken  in  to  dinner  had 
frightened  him  almost  into  imbecility  by  her  vol- 
ubility and  impertinence.  His  natural  bashful- 
ness  and  awkwardness  were  painfully  accentu- 
ated by  the  wine,  of  which  he  had  taken  more 
than  was  good  for  him.  The  only  people  he 

12 


178  Dainty  Devils. 

seemed  to  know  well  were  the  Robertsons  and 
Percy  Earle. 

"  Dear  me !  What  shall  we  do  next?  "  yawned 
Belle  St.  John. 

"  We  might  have  a  game  of  bridge,"  suggested 
Mrs.  Robertson. 

"  Who — The  lot  of  us  ?  "  querulously. 

"  No,  hardly." 

"  I  don't  like  bridge :  I  never  have  any  luck." 

"  Well,  poker  isn't  so  worse,"  squealed  Mr. 
Van  Voort,  from  the  other  side  of  the  room. 
"  How  about  you  and  Mrs.  Rob,  Belle,  and  Ned- 
die Lawrence  and  me?  Or  as  many  as  want 
to?" 

Neddie  Lawrence,  as  he  called  the  slender 
youth,  looked  alarmed. 

"  I  don't  play  extra  well,"  he  ventured. 

"  Nonsense.  It's  nothing  but  luck.  You  may 
clean  us  all  out,"  said  Mrs.  Robertson's  heavy 
voice.  With  visible  eagerness  she  had  already 
rung  for  a  servant. 

"  And  I  should  like  to  know,"  interposed  the 
terrible  mother,  "  what  you  expect  the  rest  of 
your  guests  to  do  ?  " 

"  Why,  play  too,  or  talk,  or  whatever  they 
like."  The  servant  appeared  at  Mrs.  Robertson's 
broad  red  elbow.  "  Cards,  Jones,  and  a  table." 

"  Well,  I  prefer  to  go  to  bed.  And  I  think 
it's  high  time  lights  were  out  and  you  saved 


December.  179 

on  your  gas-bill — or  electricity-bill,  which  is  even 
more  expensive."  The  old  woman  gathered  up 
her  long  skirts,  a  lump  in  each  hand,  displaying 
a  coarse  black  petticoat  in  a  "  V  "  at  each  side. 

"  Yes,  mamma.    Good-night,  mamma." 

Mrs.  Robertson  placed  her  arm  about  her 
mother's  waist  and  guided  her  very  forcibly  to- 
wards the  door.  "  Sleep  well,  mamma !  "  said 
she,  suppressed  anger  giving  a  cutting  irony  to 
her  voice.  "  I  don't  think  New  York  agrees  with 
you  so  well  as  Maine.  The  hours  are  too  late." 

"  But  I  like  the  champagne,  dear,"  snickering, 
"  and  the  good  dinners  Robertson  pays  for.  Ah, 
good-night,  all !  " 

A  courtesy  with  the  skirt  drawn  higher,  till 
the  old  creature  looked  for  all  the  world  like  the 
woman  whose  dog  did  not  know  her  because  her 
skirts  were  "  cut  round  about,"  a  foolish  chuckle, 
and  Mrs.  Robertson's  mother  retired  from  view. 

"  What  a  humiliation !  "  whispered  Van  Voort 
to  me.  "  And  she  has  millions — dozens  of 
them !  " 

"  And  therefore  must  be  tolerated,"  I  retorted, 
impulsively.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  much 
as  to  say  that  I  was  not  worth  an  argument.  The 
next  instant  Mrs.  Robertson  touched  his  arm, 
and  he  turned  to  the  card-table,  leaving  me  stand- 
ing alone  in  the  center  of  the  room. 


180  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Mrs.  Woodward !  Take  this  chair,  won't 
you?" 

It  was  Percy  Earle  who  had  jumped  up,  and 
although  Lou  looked  at  me  in  anything  but  an 
inviting  way,  I  gratefully  dropped  into  the  prof- 
fered chair,  because  I  had  suffered  one  of  those 
ridiculous  moments  of  embarrassment  which 
overwhelm  a  woman  if  she  be  unceremoniously 
abandoned  by  her  erstwhile  companion  in  the 
shape  of  a  man.  Mr.  Van  Voort  has  never  failed 
in  making  me  feel  that  in  his  opinion  I  am  of 
absolutely  no  account  in  the  universe. 

"  You  don't  intend  to  play,  Mr.  Earle  ?  "  I 
asked,  struggling  to  conceal  my  annoyance. 

Lou  answered  for  him  without  removing  the 
cigarette  from  her  lips. 

"  No,  we  prefer  to  talk.  Oh,  don't  look  fierce, 
Dot ;  we  don't  mind  you.  Do  we,  Percy  ?  " 

The  cigarette  gave  a  thick,  unrefined  tone  to 
her  voice ;  did  she  not  know  it  ? 

"  Mrs.  Woodward  is  always  a  delightful  addi- 
tion; but  she  won't  listen  to  compliments,  you 
know." 

I  scarcely  heard  him,  as  I  was  being  rapidly 
fascinated  by  the  .group  playing  poker,  and  the 
very  unintelligibility  of  the  expressions  used  riv- 
eted my  attention.  Mrs.  Robertson,  Belle  and 
Van  Voort  sat  with  elbows  upon  the  mahogany 
table.  Neddie  Lawrence  leaned  back  in  his  chair 


December.  181 

and  held  his  cards  close  to  him.  His  teeth  were 
pressed  into  his  lower  lip.  No  one  outside  of 
these  four  seemed  inclined  to  play.  Several  of 
the  women  guests  lounged  near  the  players,  ap- 
parently a  good  deal  interested  in  the  progression 
of  the  game  while  not  anxious  to  take  a  hand. 
Now  this  is,  as  accurately  as  I  could  get 
it,  what  I  heard  and  saw : 

Van  Voort  had  dealt.  Neddie  Lawrence  asked 
to  discard,  did  so,  drew  new  cards,  and  then  his 
teeth  had  gone  into  his  lips.  The  countenances 
of  the  others  were  stonily  unexpressive,  but  while 
Mrs.  Robertson  kept  her  face  immovable,  she 
could  not  control  a  heightened  redness  in  her 
cheeks,  which  might  mean  excitement,  pleasura- 
ble or  otherwise.  In  the  center  of  the  table  lay 
some  chips. 

"  Remember,  the  ante  is  one  dollar/'  warned 
Mrs.  Robertson. 

"  We're  not  in  the  habit  of  forgetting,  are 
we  ?  "  returned  Van  Voort,  tartly.  I  concluded 
his  hand  did  not  please  him. 

Inadvertently,  Mrs.  Robertson  glared  at  him 
and  sharply  recovered  herself. 

"  The  limit,"  she  continued,  icily,  "  is  five." 

Then  began  a  kind  of  Babel. 

"  I  go  in,"  said  Belle  St.  John,  cautiously.  She 
threw  a  chip  into  the  center  of  the  table.  It 
struck  its  relations  which  already  graced  the 


182  Dainty  Devils. 

board,  quite  musically,  and  slipped  daintily  into  a 
convenient  little  crevice.  Neddie  Lawrence,  say- 
ing nothing,  deposited  two  bits  of  ivory.  Some- 
how his  chips  were  not  so  graceful  and  self- 
possessed  as  Belle's.  They  clattered  nervously 
into  the  pile,  and  slid  off  to  its  outer  edge.  Mrs. 
Robertson's  bushy  eyebrows  rose,  graphically  im- 
plying that  Neddie  was  rash. 

"  I  see  you,  and  raise  a  dollar,"  she  said,  her 
eyes  beginning  to  snap  in  spite  of  herself.  Money 
is  money  every  time;  it  matters  little  from 
whom  it  is  won.  More  chips  went  into  the  pile. 

"  I  make  good  and  raise  another  dollar,"  cried 
Van  Voort,  in  royal  good  humor.  Of  course, 
money  is  no  object  with  him. 

Three  pairs  of  eyes  were  now  fixed  upon  Belle 
St.  John.  She  did  not  consider  more  than 
an  instant,  and  yet,  so  eager  was  the  attention 
that  Van  Voort  bluntly  prompted, 

"  Hurry  up,  Belle — It's  your  say." 

"  I  go  you  one  better,"  she  said,  distinctly. 
"  But  keep  your  reminder  for  yourself,  Van." 
Was  Belle  losing  her  temper  a  bit? 

"  Come  on,  Lawrence,"  screamed  Van  Voort, 
defiantly.  "  If  Belle  needs  no  prompting,  you 
do." 

Neddie  Lawrence,  his  eyes  meaninglessly  fixed 
upon  Belle,  seemed  like  one  waked  from  sleep. 

' '  See  you,"  said  he,  shortly. 


December.  183 

And  the  chips  continued  to  multiply. 

"  Don't  try  a  bluff  game,  Neddie,"  Mrs.  Rob- 
ertson exclaimed,  half-angrily.  "  You'll  only  be 
wild  when  you  lose." 

"  Not  at  all,"  Lawrence  answered,  beginning 
to  flush  nervously.  He  sat  beneath  an  unshaded 
incandescent  light,  and  the  glow  spreading  over 
his  face  was  a  relief :  for  he  had  looked  like  a 
corpse  in  his  pallor. 

"  Everyone  can't  have  good  hands  at  once," 
pursued  Mrs.  Robertson,  her  self-control  conspic- 
uous by  its  absence. 

Van  Voort  banged  his  fist  down  upon  the 
table.  I  said,  "  Oh !  "  and,  mortified  at  the  in- 
voluntary exclamation,  hastily  covered  my  mouth 
with  my  handkerchief,  as  people  so  frequently 
do  when  the  spoken  word  has  done  the  mischief 
no  number  of  handkerchiefs  can  undo. 

"  That's  not  fair,  Mrs.  Rob,"  said  Van  Voort, 
his  squeal  lost  in  a  queer  gruffness ;  "  quit  talk- 
ing across  the  board,  I  say !  " 

"  It's  your  say,  Mrs.  Rob,"  hastily  interposed 
Belle  St.  John.  "  For  pity's  sake  don't  begin  to 
fight."  This  rather  proved  that  Belle  was  judg- 
ing the  others  by  her  own  irritability. 

Mrs.  Robertson  began  running  her  fingers 
through  her  ugly  curly  hair — hair  which  cannot 
fail  to  impress  one  as  being  hopelessly  common 
and  unaristocratic  and  but  a  poor  background 


184  Dainty  Devils. 

for  her  gorgeous  diamond  tiara.  She  was  wild 
to  win,  and  struggling  not  to  call  the  game  be- 
fore more  betting  had  been  accomplished. 

"  I  see  you,"  she  said,  excitedly,  to  Lawrence, 
"  and  go  you  the  limit  better." 

Belle  St.  John,  catching  her  breath,  leaned  ex- 
pectantly toward  Van  Voort. 

"  The  devil !  "  said  he,  shrilly.  "  I  pass  out." 

Mrs.  Robertson  openly  smiled.  Belle  glanced 
down  at  her  own  cards  and  looked  anxious.  The 
"  say  "  was  hers  again ;  she  had  lost  confidence 
in  her  hand,  and  was  in  doubt  what  she  should 
do. 

"  Well  ?  Lost  your  spunk  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Rob- 
ertson. 

"  No,"  drawled  Belle,  "  I— see  you." 

Mrs.  Robertson  was  astonished  and  pleased ; 
she  pulled  Neddie  Lawrence's  sleeve.  He,  mov- 
ing suddenly,  drew  his  chair  across  a  bit  of 
Belle's  long  train  and  tore  a  dreadful  rent  in 
the  spangled  net.  Belle  glanced  at  the  damage, 
frowned  a  trifle,  and  drew  her  draperies  within 
more  limited  space.  Neddie  Lawrence  was  un- 
conscious of  the  accident. 

"  I,"  said  he,  in  what  must  have  been  a  mo- 
ment of  desperate  insanity,  "  see  you  too — I — 
I'm  not  afraid." 

"  Well,"  Mrs.  Robertson  said,  rising  and  toss- 
ing a  handful  of  chips  into  the  goodly  pile,"  I 


December.  185 

make  good  and  call  you,  Neddie."  She  threw 
down  her  cards  and  laughed  confidently. 

Lawrence  turned  blue-white ;  he  drew  his  chair 
forward  and  the  cards  he  held  dropped  list- 
lessly upon  the  table.  Belle  and  Van  Voort 
stooped  eagerly  over  the  two  hands  of  cards,  at 
the  same  time  laying  down  their  own. 

"  Golly  !  "  ejaculated  Belle  St.  John.  "  You 
swipe  the  pile,  Mrs.  Rob !  See  here,  Mr.  Law- 
rence, a  full  house !  And  the  next  best  is  my 
two  pair !  What  the  dickens  did  you  bet  on,  any- 
way ?  "  This  to  the  boy  who  had  lost  so  badly. 

Neddie  Lawrence  made  a  silly  attempt  at  a 
laugh.  It  was  only  too  sadly  plain  how  far  the 
wine  had  muddled  him. 

"  Come,  deal  again !  "  said  Mrs.  Robertson, 
abruptly.  "  Give  him  a  chance  to  win  it  back. 
No — don't  pay  now ;  Van  Voort  keeps  the  score 
and  we  settle  when  we  break  up." 

"  Yes,"  volunteered  Van  Voort,  "  when  we 
break  up  broke." 

"  I — think — I'd  better  go.  I  must  be  at  the 
bank  early  in  the  morning." 

Lawrence  was  a  pitiable  object — standing  there 
before  his  unprincipled  hostess.  She  was  old 
enough  to  be  his  mother,  and  she  knew  the  boy 
was  half-intoxicated ;  these  facts  did  not  prevent 
her  from  gloating  over  all  she  could  win  from 
him.  She  patted  Neddie's  arm  in  a  manner  at 


1 86  Dainty  Devils. 

once  impatient  and  re-assuring,  but  before  she 
could  speak,  Belle  teasingly  interrupted. 

"  To  blow  up  a  vault  ?  No  need.  Play  again, 
Mr.  Lawrence.  First  losers,  last  winners,  you 
know." 

The  sound  of  the  men  coming  from  the  dining- 
room  precipitated  Neddie  Lawrence  back  into  his 
seat.  Mrs.  Robertson  had  begun  to  deal.  This 
time  he  did  not  change  any  of  his  cards,  while 
Belle  and  Van  Voort  clamored  loudly  against 
their  luck,  insisted  upon  having  the  grain  of  the 
table,  and  discarded  almost  all  of  their  original 
hands. 

Jack's  face  and  Mr.  Robertson's  were  very  di- 
verting. Jack  looked  surprised,  then  infinitesi- 
mally  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  came  over 
to  sit  next  me.  Mr.  Allison,  inscrutable  before 
poker  as  everything  else,  took  a  chair  near  Belle 
St.  John. 

"  Shan't  we  go  ? "  Jack  asked,  considerable 
meaning  in  the  tone. 

Mr.  Robertson  had  whispered  something  to 
his  wife,  eliciting  the  reply,  "  It's  Monday,  Alex- 
ander, and  people  may  go  to  the  deuce  with  their 
scruples !  "  Then  he  came,  a  distracted  look  in 
his  eyes,  to  Jack. 

"  Could  you,  Woodward,  just  for  fifteen 
minutes,  discuss  Northern  Pacific  with  me?  If 
Mrs.  Woodward  won't  mind  ?  " 


December.  187 

An  eager  interest  in  the  gambling  had  taken 
possession  of  me.  I  was  ready  to  cry  for  Neddie 
Lawrence,  and  wanted  to  see  what  his  fate  would 
be.  To  leave  would  have  been  a  penitential  duty. 
And  it  was  not  mere  curiosity,  nor  gambling- 
mania  either — I  was  painfully  concerned  for  the 
country-boy,  who  from  present  appearances 
seemed  likely  to  prove  a  weakling  under  tempta- 
tion. 

"  I  don't  mind,  Jack.  Really,  I'm  no  longer 
sleepy." 

"  Very  well,  Robertson." 

Stocks  are  Mr.  Robertson's  solace  and  salva- 
tion. For  him  they  are  substitutes  for  a  wife's 
love,  children  and  a  happy  home.  The  develop- 
ment of  a  new  syndicate  takes  the  place  of  the 
arrival  of  a  new  baby ;  a  panic  is  the  represen- 
tative agony  of  a  child's  mortal  illness;  prophe- 
cies verified,  given  advice  successfully  followed, 
are  the  tender  consolations  a  wife  might  rea- 
sonably be  expected  to  supply;  margins  and 
"  shorts  "  are  not  altogether  unpleasant  anxieties 
which  might  rank  with  the  misgivings  of  a  par- 
ent as  to  his  son's  vices  at  college.  Wall  Street 
makes  up  for  this  man  a  life  which  otherwise 
would  be  blank  and  empty. 

As  Jack  consented  to  linger  a  while  longer,  an 
odd  expression  of  relief  suffused  Mr.  Robertson's 


1 88  Dainty  Devils. 

troubled  features.  He  took  Jack's  elbow,  and 
they  went  out  of  sight  and  hearing. 

Except  for  those  at  the  poker  game,  Lou,  Alli- 
son and  Percy,  the  guests  were  leaving — the 
women  yawningly  tired,  and  the  men  in  a  bus- 
iness-like hurry  to  be  off,  now  that  eating  and 
drinking  were  at  an  end.  How  frank  men  are 
in  their  preferences ! 

Women  are  the  safeguards  of  social  politeness 
and  conventionality.  Without  much  effort  and 
with  only  decent  self-respect,  they  might  be 
guardians  of  social  honesty  and  cleanliness. 

"  How  you  watch  them,  Dot.  You'll  soon  be 
a  player  yourself." 

I  started  at  Lou's  voice.  Mrs.  Robertson  had 
been  most  brief  and  pre-occupied  as  she  bade 
her  guests  good-night,  and  was  now  back  at  the 
game,  which  absorbed  her  utterly.  Over  and 
over  cards  were  dealt,  chips  fell  or  were  gath- 
ered in,  the  peculiar  language  was  excitedly  em- 
ployed, arguments  arose,  voices  waxed  loud  and 
even  impolite,  and  once  Van  Voort  saying, 
"  Damn  it ! "  when  Belle  St.  John  showed  a 
"  straight  flush,"  made  no  apology.  I  closed  my 
eyes  curiously.  Yes,  it  was  true  that  conscious 
only  of  the  speech,  no  human  mind  would  ever 
have  fitted  it  into  such  surroundings  and  among 
such  people.  Belle's  frail  white  arms  and  hands 
and  baby-face  seemed  especially  out  of  place. 


December.  189 

Her  words  belonged  to  the  coarse  lips  and  ques- 
tionable society  of  a  bar-room.  Lolling  in  a  pal- 
ace she  talked  like  a  cow-boy! 

Neddie  Lawrence  lost  on  every  deal.  He  was 
no  longer  pale,  but  the  color  of  his  face  was 
worse  than  pallor.  Finally,  sobered  through 
fright,  his  young  figure  tense  with  excitement, 
he  determinedly  rose. 

"  I  must  stop  now.  Truly  I  haven't 
enough  money  with  me  to  cover  my  indebted- 
ness." 

"  You  may  use  my  check-book/'  said  Mrs. 
Robertson,  promptly.  "I  bank  at  the  Falconers', 
too." 

He  hesitated,  and  just  then  Percy  Earle,  his 
lips  barely  separated,  spoke  in  a  low  tone  to 
Lou  Allison.  She  immediately  and  unquestion- 
ingly  rose.  If  only  Allison  were  more  masterful ! 

"  Come,  Belle,  I'm  going  home  and  there's 
only  one  carriage." 

"  Wait  a  minute — I  raise  you.  Oh,  the  deuce ! 
You  see  me,  do  you  ?  When  this  hand  is  finished, 
Lou."  Belle  was  hoping  to  win  again,  and  was 
quivering  with  excitement  as  she  scanned  her 
cards. 

She  lost,  and  more  than  canceled  her  former 
winnings.  With  commendable  effort  to  conceal 
her  disappointment,  she  smilingly  left  the  table. 
Van  Voort  was  settling  up  the  account. 


Dainty  Devils. 

"  If — if  Mrs.  Robertson  will  accommodate  me 
with  a  blank,  I  shall  write  a  check  for  the 
amount,"  I  heard  Neddie  Lawrence  say.  He 
seemed  to  have  grown  thinner. 

A  dreadful  pang  shot  through  my  heart.  Was 
it  imagination  or  were  Neddie's  clothes  shabby? 
Brushed  and  pressed  to  a  nicety,  they  were  want- 
ing in  the  opulent  finish  that  distinguished  the 
other  men's  attire.  Marion  had  told  me  he  held 
an  insignificant  position  in  the  bank.  What  had 
she  said? — Assistant  to  the  discount  clerk,  or 
something  similar.  And  his  people  at  home  were 
poor!  Oh,  foolish  boy,  to  attempt  to  keep  pace 
with  these  reckless  individuals  who  are  going, 
even  for  them,  at  break-neck  speed !  A  strange, 
weary  faintness  came  over  me.  Unobserved  I 
slipped  out  into  the  wide  hall,  where  cool  air,  not 
to  say  dangerous  draughts,  made  the  atmosphere 
more  comfortable.  Wishing  Jack  would  come,  I 
walked  slowly  up  and  down.  The  change  of 
atmosphere  fairly  struck  at  my  bare  neck  and 
arms,  and  I  found  myself  growing  uncom- 
fortably chilly.  In  one  corner,  near  the  back  of 
the  hall,  was  a  sheltered  seat  on  which  I  finally 
settled  myself,  anxiously  eying  the  stairs  for 
Jack's  appearance.  I  had  not  been  two  minutes 
in  the  protected  corner,  before  Neddie  Lawrence 
and  Percy  Earle  came  out  of  the  drawing-room 


December.  191 

and  paused  within  ten  feet  of  me ;  they  could  not 
see  me  because  of  the  palms. 

"  Don't  be  foolish,  Lawrence ;  it's  only  a  hun- 
dred, but  it  will  help  you  out  of  this,  and  then 
take  my  advice  and  quit." 

Percy's  earnest  whisper  was  very  distinct.  I 
was  too  surprised  and  too  tired  and  sleepy  to 
speak,  or  to  give  the  warning-  cough,  which 
custom  consecrates  to  such  situations. 

"  I  can't  be  such  a  cad,  Percy.  And  honestly 
I  can  get  the  money  to-morrow."  The  voice 
faltered,  in  the  very  assertion. 

I  could  see  Percy's  face.  It  set  itself  very 
sternly. 

"  Not  without  some  disagreeable  sacrifice,  or 
your  face  lies.  You  look  ill  and  used-up,  my  boy. 
You're  worried.  Take  it,  Lawrence,  and  return 
it  as  soon  as  you  can,  for  I'm  not  rich." 

The  money  was  thrust  into  Lawrence's  hand, 
at  the  instant  that  a  servant  appeared  with  two 
raglans.  I  made  myself  as  small  as  I  could  upon 
the  seat,  and  as  the  footman  let  the  two  men  out, 
slipped  back  to  the  drawing-room  where  Mrs. 
Robertson  and  Lou  Allison  and  her  husband  were 
now  alone. 

"If  you  came  last,  you  also  stay  last,"  said 
Mrs.  Robertson  to  me,  intending  to  be  agreeable, 
I  believe:  for  she  was  openly  elated  over  her 
winnings.  I  was  conscience-stricken  by  the 


192  Dainty  Devils. 

knowledge  that  I  had  listened  to  a  conversation 
not  meant  for  me,  and  meekly  announced  that 
I  should  go  for  my  wrap,  and  would  she  send 
for  Mr.  Woodward? 

At  three  o'clock  I  laid  my  buzzing  head  upon 
the  pillow.  And  I  dreamed  that  I  held  a 
"  straight  flush  " — whatever  that  may  be — and 
won  Percy  Earle  from  Lou  Allison ! 

To-day  I  have  been  wondering  whether  Mrs. 
La  Grange  knows  of  Neddie  Lawrence's  gam- 
bling. She  is  responsible  for  him,  and  naturally 
could  not  approve  of  his  continuing  to  live  at  the 
pace  he  has  started.  Well,  I  cannot  tell  her. 
Although  she  does  not  make  intimate  friends 
of  them,  she  knows  all  the  people  who  have  taken 
him  up  socially.  I  earnestly  hope  something 
will  happen  to  him  before  he  grows  much  worse, 
or  Mrs.  LaGrange  may  yet  devoutly  wish  she  had 
left  him  in  rural  surroundings  and  to  the  dissi- 
pation of  hay-rides  and  church-fairs.  Poor  boy ! 
He  has  fallen  among  thieves  and  he  does  not 
know  it.  They  wear  velvet  and  diamonds  and 
broadcloth,  but  they  are  thieves,  although  garbed 
in  what  custom  dubs  honest  men's  clothing.  The 
clothing  of  gentlemen,  the  raiment  of  fine 
ladies — Take  them  at  the  value  of  their  goodly 
apparel,  their  mansions,  and  servants  and  stocks 
and  bonds.  But  as  for  gentilesse — honor ;  the  for- 
mer is  out  of  style,  and  the  latter  perverted, 


December.  193 

among  these  people  who  claim  to  be  the  leaders  of 
society.  They  see  no  culpability  in  dragging 
young  men  like  Neddie  Lawrence  into  worth- 
less existence,  and  robbing  them  of  the  self- 
respect  and  old-fashioned  honesty  they  brought 
from  home.  It  is  theft  to  take  money  from  that 
boy;  for  whatever  he  earns  should  go  to  his 
parents.  And  it  is  theft  upon  his  part  to  play 
cards  when  the  money  he  bets  is  not  in  his  pos- 
session. 

Percy  did  a  generous  act ;  I  am  not  sure  it 
was  a  wise  one.  I  wish  I  felt  it  would  be  right 
to  tell  Marion.  Upon  second  thought  what 
would  be  the  sense?  She  adores  him  already, 
and  to  add  one  more  decoration  to  his  beautiful 
perfections  would  merely  set  her  heart  throbbing 
more  wildly  when  he  is  named.  It  would  be 
kinder  in  Marion's  case,  to  discover  something 
despicable  of  Percy  and  disclose  it  to  her. 

Would  she  turn  against  him  then?  Oh  dear, 
no!  She  does  not  even  despise  him  for  being 
infatuated  with  Lou  Allison.  She  cannot, 
because  she  loves  him ;  and,  superior  and  incom- 
parable and  extraordinary  as  she  is,  Marion  is 
but  a  girl  in  love,  and  that  is  all — which  means 
faithful  and  worshipping  in  a  woman's  unreason- 
ing way. 

Jack  does  not  criticise  people  as  a  rule;  nor 

13 


194  Dainty  Devils. 

does  he  gossip.     This  was  his  only  remark  about 
Robertsons'  supper : 

"  I'm  glad,  Dot,  Mrs.  Robertson's  mother  did 
not  astonish  you  any  more  than  your  face  re- 
vealed." 

Is  there  reproof  in  that  sentence  ? 

******* 

I  have  no  idea  how  many  teas  I  have  attended 
this  month.  They  have  been  of  all  sorts  and  de- 
scriptions, from  the  extravagant  entertainment 
with  music  and  vaudeville  performance,  to  the 
tea-and-sandwich  in  an  apartment,  where  the 
hostess  is  tired  and  nervous  long  before  the 
guests  begin  to  arrive  and  goes  through  the 
hours  "  From  four  till  seven",  in  a  cruel  tor- 
ture of  dread  lest  the  general  house-worker  got- 
ten up  in  cap  and  bibbed-apron  and  turned  loose 
in  the  dressing-room  as  a  "  maid",  may  make 
some  startling  break  before  the  last  callers  have 
departed.  I  have  the  most  acute  commiseration 
for  these  hostesses  of  small  means  and  smaller 
apartments,  who  struggle  through  an  affair  of 
this  kind,  impelled  by  some  unnamed  force  which 
urges  every  woman  to  "  do  something  "  during 
a  New  York  season.  It  always  appears  to  ma 
that  the  sandwiches — as  a  rule  very  delicious  and 
much  superior  to  those  furnished  by  fashionable 
caterers — have  succeeded  in  getting  all  the 
woman's  nerves  chopped  into  them,  and  she 


December.  195 

stands  a  wreck  in  her  own  home,  courageously 
smiling,  while  in  the  raging  storm  of  anxiety 
engulfing  her,  the  single  buoy  she  can  cling  to 
is  the  reflection  produced  by  those  same  won- 
drous, spicy,  succulent  sandwiches  made  by  her 
own  hands,  "  The  things  will  surely  taste  good." 
When  the  perfunctory  smile  vanishes,  I  cannot 
help  believing  that  the  weary  hostess  has  been 
assailed  by  the  torturing  specter  which  occa- 
sionally appalled  Lame  Ann  if  the  griddle-cakes 
were  good  and  Uncle  Dalton  came  to  tea  with 
father:  "I  wonder  whether  I  made  enough!" 
There  does  not  seem  to  be  any  mortification  quite 
so  painful  as  not  having  sufficient  food  to  go 
around.  Even  the  great  Apostle  went  in  trepida- 
tion to  the  Master,  when  the  multitude  were  many 
and  the  loaves  and  fishes  few. 

It  was  not  at  one  of  these  heroic,  pathetic, 
limited  entertainments,  nor  yet  at  a  colossally 
large  and  elaborate  "  Tea,"  that  Belle  St.  John 
gave  us  such  a  fright,  and  I,  excited  beyond 
myself  and  manners,  got  into  trouble  with  Mrs. 
Robertson.  The  house  is  one  of  the  most  fash- 
ionable in  New  York,  and  yet  maintains  some 
vestige  of  old-time  simplicity  and  lack  of 
ostentation.  I  went  expecting  an  agreeable  time ; 
I  was  most  wofully  disappointed. 

Jack  taboos  teas  of  all  varieties — including  the 
beverage  itself;  therefore  I  never  have  his  com- 


196  Dainty  Devils. 

pany  at  such  functions.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
first  tea  which  I  attended,  where  the  woman 
giving  the  tea  was  the  only  one  I  knew.  I  in- 
nocently went  by  myself,  fancying  that  the  hostess 
would  soon  make  me  acquainted  with  lots  of 
people.  Vain  thought  of  trusting  ignorance ! 
She  said :  "  So  glad  to  see  you !"  turned  to  the 
next  caller,  and  I  stood  stranded  in  solitary 
misery  upon  the  parquette  floor.  -  , 

I  walked  to  the  dining-room,  where  the  two 
girls  pouring  tea  and  chocolate  never  so  much 
as  looked  at  me,  and  half-a-dozen  women  stared 
as  though  I  had  no  right  to  be  there.  One 
woman  put  up  a  lorgnette  and  asked  her  com- 
panion, very  distinctly,  "  Who  is  the  small  per- 
son?" A  waiter  handed  me  an  ice.  Could  any 
one  eat  it  while  a  lot  of  women  watched  every 
spoonful  ?  Two  spoonsfuls  were  enough  for  me. 
I  thrust  the  plate  into  the  hand  of  the  first  man 
who  came  along,  and  fled  through  a  door  open- 
ing into  the  hall.  There  I  tripped  over  the  cor- 
ner of  a  rug  which  skated  perilously  upon  the 
slippery  waxed  floor,  and  fell  prone.  Oh,  the 
humiliation  of  it !  A  servant  helped  me  up,  and 
protesting  I  was  not  hurt,  I  went  blind  and  dizzy 
to  the  carriage. 

Pride  prevented  my  rehearsing  this  episode  to 
Jack.  I  even  worried  a  couple  of  weeks  for  fear 
some  kind,  observing  acquaintance  had  witnessed 


December.  197 

my  mishap,  and  would  courteously  inquire 
whether  Mrs.  Woodward  hurt  herself  the  day 
she  tumbled  down  at  the  Jacksons'  tea.  It  was 
like  carrying  a  sin  upon  my  conscience. 

That  first  experience  seems  years  ago,  and  I 
never  again  went  anywhere  alone  unless  I  could  be 
certain  of  meeting  people  I  knew.  It  was  in  the 
most  happily  anticipative  frame  of  mind  that  I 
started  out  yesterday  for  the  tea  where  at  least 
the  hostess  and  her  assistants  would  be  delight- 
ful, even  if  all  the  guests  were  not  particularly 
agreeable.  I  found  the  house  swarming  with 
humanity,  as  this  woman,  with  her  simple  menus 
and  decorations,  still  "  draws  "  a  hundred  times 
better  than  most  of  the  aspiring  strugglers  who, 
by  dazzling  one's  senses  of  sight,  taste  and  hear- 
ing, hope  to  evolve  an  applauding  recognition 
of  the  pinnacle  attained.  How  beautifully  some 
social  climbers  succeed ! 

Marion  LaGrange  poured  the  tea.  She  was 
entrancing  in  a  pale  yellow  gown,  at  a  table  where 
everything  was  green,  white  or  silver. 

"  Stay  near  me,  won't  you  ?"  she  asked,  smiling 
up  at  me. 

"  Gladly,  only  I  am  in  the  way.  Others  also 
want  tea.  And  the  men  want  to  look  at  you." 

"  They  do  not  interest  me  "  she  said.  Percy 
Earle  being  invisible,  I  knew  she  spoke  the  truth. 

Addie  Layton  and  her  husband  pressed  for- 


1 98  Dainty  Devils. 

ward  out  of  the  crowd  toward  Marion.  Of 
course,  Addie  was  ahead  in  the  pushing. 

"  I'd  like  some  tea — provided  it's  really  hot/' 
said  she,  as  peevish  and  pouting  as  her  teething 
baby  at  home. 

Marion  pointed  amiably  to  the  flame  of  the 
alcohol-lamp.  Mrs.  Layton  jerked  her  classic 
head  in  a  very  ugly  manner. 

"  That  doesn't  do  any  good,  if  you've  just 
poured  in  cold  water.  I  am  not  a  mind-curist." 

Truly,  Mrs.  Layton  could  not  be  anything 
whatever  that  would  require  mind  to  any  appre- 
ciable extent. 

I  hastily  slipped  off.  Mrs.  Layton  provokes 
me  to  say  sharp  things — rather  sharper  than  her 
own.  It  would  not  do  to  risk  an  encounter  with 
her.  Jack  says  I  must  learn  to  be  discreet. 

"  Hello !  You  here  ?  "  My  aimless  wandering 
about  was  speedily  cut  short.  It  was  Belle  St. 
John  who  greeted  me,  her  cheeks  very  hectic, 
her  hat  a  trifle  crooked.  She  had  caught  me  by 
the  arm. 

"  Come  sit  down,  Dot,  won't  you?  I'm  terri- 
bly giddy  to-day,  and  the  commotion  and  crowd 
confuse  me." 

Shocked  at  her  appearance,  I  followed  Belle 
into  the  music-room,  deserted  at  the  moment 
in  favor  of  the  superior  attraction  of  tea  and 
sweets  and  pretty  girls  in  the  dining-room. 


December.  199 

Side-by-side  we  sat  down  on  a  divan,  Belle  turn- 
ing to  me  with  a  peculiar  gesture  of  impatient 
suffering.  I  had  had  no  private  conversation 
with  her  since  the  day  she  pawned  her  ring,  and 
a  certain  severity  lingered  in  my  feelings  towards 
her. 

"  Do  I  look  strange  ?"  Belle  asked,  pushing 
back  her  hat.  Perspiration  stood  in  drops  upon 
her  forehead,  and  the  hair  trailing  across  it 
showed  dark  with  moisture.  She  breathed 
quickly  and  audibly,  like  one  terribly  excited  or 
awfully  ill. 

"  Belle,"  I  said,  earnestly,  "  what  have  you 
been  doing?" 

"  Nothing,  I  give  you  my  word.  I  know  you 
mean  what  have  I  been  drinking?  My  dear, 
these  people  don't  even  serve  punch,  as  you  know. 
Gad!  I  wish  I  had  some!" 

"  I  think,  Belle,  you  ought  to  go  home ;  you 
look  unnatural.  What  makes  you  tremble  so? 
Are  you  cold  or  what  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Dot,  I  don't  know !  I  never  felt  like 
this  in  all  my  life  before.  Is  my  hat  on  straight  ?" 
She  struggled  with  trembling  hands  at  her  hat, 
and  the  disordered  hair  about  her  forehead. 
"  Dot !"  in  a  desp'erate  voice,  "Get  me  home,  can't 
you?  Oh,  dear!  What  will  people  think?  I'm 
sure  I  look  hideous.  But  I  can't  help  it — No, 
I  can't  stand  up.  Oh !  " 


200  Dainty  Devils. 

Belle  gasped,  leaned  forward,  clutched  my 
gown,  turned  ghastly  pale,  and  then  my  heart 
fairly  stood  still  at  the  gurgling  sound  which 
came  from  her  throat.  In  another  instant  a 
warm  red  stream  poured  over  her  white  satin 
waist.  It  was  the  most  dreadful  thing  I  had 
ever  witnessed,  and  as  I  caught  the  woman,  faint- 
ing from  fright  at  the  sight  of  blood,  I  gave  a 
short,  stupid  scream.  An  alarm  of  fire  could 
not  have  been  more  tempestuously  received.  Peo- 
ple ran  in  from  the  drawing-room,  the  dining- 
room,  the  hall.  Everyone  exclaimed  at  the  sight 
of  Belle,  and  most  of  them,  having  rushed  in 
through  fright  and  curiosity,  rushed  out  through 
pitiful  horror  and  dread  that  Belle  was  dying. 

"  Help  me,"  I  said,  as  I  knelt  supporting  Belle's 
weight  against  my  shoulder.  "  She  has  fainted. 
Can't  you  see  ?  " 

A  woman  laughed  hysterically,  another  wailed ; 

"  Oh,  let  me  out !  I  never  could  bear  the 
sight  of  blood/" 

"  What  is  it  ?     Let  me  pass !" 

Oh,  how  blessed  is  man — at  times !  Over  the 
frantic  heads  of  panic-stricken  women,  I  caught 
sight  of  Percy  Earle's  head  and  shoulders.  I 
was  ready  to  collapse,  when  his  voice  reanimated 
me. 

"  Percy !"  I  cried,  never  knowing  till  Mrs. 
Robertson  sneeringly  told  me  of  the  fact,  that  I 


December.  201 

had  not  said,  "  Mr.  Earle."  "  Quick !  I  can't 
hold  her  much  longer." 

Would  anyone  believe  it?  Along  some  lines, 
the  evolutions  of  civilization  leave  much  to  be 
desired.  Greater  intellect,  a  higher  nervous 
development,  smaller  hands  and  feet,  are  now  the 
endowment  of  the  average  woman  of  education, 
compared  with  her  sisters  of  the  savage  tribes. 
What  a  wretched  pity  that  the  improvement  and 
betterment  do  not  extend  to  the  heart!  Quite 
on  a  par  with  the  femininity  that  pokes  spikes 
into  Indian  prisoners,  and  tears  off  their  finger- 
nails, are  women  like  Mrs.  Robertson,  whom, 
as  Percy  lifted  Belle  and  laid  her  upon  the  divan, 
I  distinctly  heard  say  : 

"  How  much  more  interesting  had  it  been  Lou 
Allison !" 

I  tottered  to  my  feet,  Percy  assisting  me. 

"  Here  is  Dr.  Stanton,"  said  a  sweet  voice  we 
all  knew.  "  He  was  just  leaving." 

It  was  Marion  who  had  brought  him,  while  the 
rest  exclaimed  and  had  faints  and  hysterics.  The 
stately  old  physician  bent  over  Belle,  and  she 
murmured  something  weakly.  Percy  had  turned 
to  Marion. 

"  You  are  an  exceptional  girl,  Marion,"  he  said, 
heartily,  "  to  have  kept  your  wits  and  brought 
the  doctor." 

"  I  knew  he  was  here,  for  he  had  been  talking 


2O2  Dainty  Devils. 

with  me,"  she  said,  simply.     "  Oh,  here  is  Mrs. 
Blashfield,  and  I  think  all  the  rest  of  us  should 

go." 

Mrs.  Blashfield,  the  hostess,  who  had  been  en- 
tertaining a  couple  of  elderly  clerics  in  the  library 
on  the  other  side  of  the  house,  had  only  that 
moment  heard  of  Belle's  hemorrhage.  She  came 
in  very  anxious,  but  composed  and  helpful  and 
motherly.  Dr.  Stanton  ordered  us  out  of  the 
room,  with  the  exception  of  Mrs.  Blashfield.  I 
went  silently  with  the  others,  although  I  meant 
to  remain  in  the  house  until  Lou  Allison  should 
arrive.  In  the  hall  I  staggered.  Marion  put 
her  arm  about  me  and  told  Percy  to  bring  some 
wine. 

"  I  believe  you  are  right.  Mrs.  Woodward 
needs  it." 

People  were  leaving — rather  hastily  in  most 
instances — while  a  few  lingered,  whispering,  in 
twos  and  threes.  Mrs.  Robertson  followed 
Marion  and  me  into  the  library. 

"  I  always  thought  Belle  St.  John  was  con- 
sumptive," she  said,  aggressively,  "  and  now 
there's  proof  of  it." 

I  was  choking  with  anger  over  the  remark 
she  had  made  when  Percy  Earle  came  to  Belle's 
assistance,  so  I  refrained  from  answering. 
Marion  replied  in  her  gentle  manner. 

"  This  could  not  be  considered  proof,  Mrs. 
Robertson." 


December.  203 

"  Oh,  you  know  better  than  I  do,  do  you  ? 
Well,  we  shall  see.  No  woman  could  stand  the 
life  Belle  leads,  for  long." 

Percy  and  a  waiter  with  some  wine  were  com- 
ing. I  spoke  hurriedly  and  in  anger : 

"  Most  of  her  life  is  spent  in  your  company." 

"  If  Belle  asserts  that,"  purpling  apoplecti- 
cally,  "  she  very  much  exaggerates.  Allow  me  to 
remark  that  I  never  found  anyone  who  didn't 
bore  me  at  the  end  of  two  hours." 

"  Except  when  you  gamble." 

Mrs.  Robertson  drew  herself  up  and  towered 
wrathfully  above  my  figure,  while  mortification 
for  my  rudeness  seemed  to  cause  me  to  dwindle 
into  downright  insignificance. 

"  The  spy  is  a  strange  role  for  a  lady  to  as- 
sume," she  hissed,  clenching  her  hands. 

"  I  sincerely  apologize  for  my  remark ;  and  I 
expect  an  apology  for  your  last."  My  cheeks 
burned  and  the  tears  came  to  my  eyes.  Lame 
Ann  always  said  I  had  a  bad  temper. 

Percy  touched  my  elbow. 

"  You  don't  look  now  as  if  you  needed  the  wine, 
Mrs.  Woodward,"  he  said,  a  good  deal  of  sur- 
prise in  his  face. 

"  No — She  has  her  full  allotment  of  nerve," 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Robertson,  and  with  that  sailed 
out  of  the  room. 

"  Leave  the  tray  here,"  Percy  told  the  servant. 


2O4  Dainty  Devils. 

"  You're  right,  Mr.  Earle,  I  don't  need  the 
wine.  I  lost  my  temper,  that's  all." 

What  would  father  have  said?  It  is  not  true 
that  a  lady  never  forgets  herself.  She  does,  if 
the  provocation  be  greater  than  her  power  of 
self-control.  I  am  more  quick-tempered  than 
most  people,  and  no  amount  of  ladyhood  would 
keep  me  impassive  when  my  feelings  are  in  a 
wild  ferment. 

Simply  Mrs.  Robertson  asleep  would  irritate 
me;  and  Mrs.  Robertson  awake,  aroused,  bellig- 
erent, almost  brings  on  hydrophobia.  If  I  were 
a  washer-woman,  I  should  pound  her  with  my 
fists.  Being  Mrs.  J.  Worthington  Woodward, 
nee  Gretchen  von  Waldeck,-  pugilism  does  not 
claim  me,  but  a  biting  tongue  does.  Oh,  woe! 
Is  this  one  more  proof  that  the  feminine  tongue 
is  the  last  member  to  come  under  the  beneficent 
influence  of  civilizing  education  ?  My  arms  hang 
limply,  decorously,  when  I  am  angered;  my 
tongue  is  still  the  savage,  and  it  strikes ! 

Percy,  chuckled  at  my  acknowledgment  of  loss 
of  temper. 

"  The  other  one  seems  to  have  done  the  same." 
He  was  laughing  a  little.  "  I'm  sorry  you've 
had  to  go  through  so  much." 

Painfully  near  a  crying-spell,  I  kept  the  tears 
from  falling  by  refusing  to  blink.  As  a  child,  I 
had  always  found  this  a  first-rate  plan. 


December.  205 

"  Belle  is  better/'  Percy  continued,  tactfully 
changing  the  subject.  "  But  Dr.  Stanton  says  she 
can't  be  moved  for  forty-eight  hours." 

In  spite  of  my  effort,  I  blinked,  and  two  big 
tears  ran  over.  Fumbling  for  my  handkerchief, 
I  reflected  helplessly  that  it  was  in  my  card-case, 
which  I  had  dropped  somewhere  after  Belle 
fainted.  Percy  Earle  divined  my  dilemma,  and 
gravely  produced  a  nice  fresh  silk  one,  heavily 
embroidered  in  the  corner — no  doubt  by  Lou 
Allison's  fingers.  I  hastily  dried  the  two  big 
drops,  and  giving  the  handkerchief  back  to  Percy, 
recovered  my  voice  and  dignity. 

"  It  is  too  bad  the  hemorrhage  happened  away 
from  home,"  I  said,  smothering  a  sniffle,  "  and 
very  hard  upon  Mrs.  Blashfield." 

Percy  Earle  sighed  absently. 

"  Quite  natural  that  it  did,"  he  returned,  in  a 
low  tone,  "  as  Belle  rarely  stays  at  home,  poor 
girl!" 

"  If  it  had  occurred  in  the  street !  "  I  shud- 
dered, that  miserable  morbidness  that  taints 
humanity,  suddenly  dominating  me  and  evoking 
the  vivid  picture  of  an  "  It-might-have-been- 
worse  !" 

Percy  Earle  glanced  at  me  in  quick  surprise. 

"  There's  no  use  of  calling  up  painful  possi- 
bilities. Sit  down,  Mrs.  Woodward.  You've 
lost  all  your  color." 


206  Dainty  Devils. 

The  recollection  of  the  warm  red  stream  which 
poured  over  Belle's  beautiful  white  blouse,  over- 
came my  pride  of  being  above  a  faint.  The 
room  began  to  whirl ;  I  reached  blindly  for  the 
glass  of  wine,  staring  at  Percy  through  an  ap- 
parent water-fall ;  then  from  the  depths  of  a 
black  cloud  he  spoke  to  me,  but  I  was  falling 
down,  down,  and  could  not  understand. 

When  I  regained  consciousness,  I  had  for- 
gotten all  the  events  of  the  afternoon,  and  won- 
dered why  my  hair  was  wet,  and  Marion  La- 
Grange  knelt  beside  me  with  a  dripping  handker- 
chief. 

"  What  ails  you,  Marion  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Nothing,  dear.  You  fainted,  that's  all.  Lou 
Allison  has  come,  and  she'll  stay  with  Belle. 
Percy  and  I  will  take  you  home." 

Marion  shines  brilliantly  in  trouble ;  that  is  the 
one  reason  why  I  sometimes  succumb  to  a  chok- 
ing fear  that  joy  is  never  to  be  her  portion.  The 
moment  others  grow  limp  and  helpless,  Marion 
is  animated  by  heroic  courage  and  the  physical 
endurance  of  a  strong  man.  I  believe  if  Belle 
St.  John  had  died,  and  all  the  people  at  the  tea 
had  bolted,  Marion  would  have  quietly  closed  the 
eyes  of  the  dead,  and  then  telephoned  for  the 
undertaker.  And  the  beauty  of  the  whole  is 
that  Marion  would  never  have  alluded  to  those 
who  decamped,  nor  have  understood  that  she  was 


December.  207 

exceptional.  Of  course  I  did  not  think  of  all  this 
as  I  came  out  of  the  faint;  I  merely  felt  com- 
forted by  Marion's  presence  and  her  tender  bath- 
ing of  my  swimming  head.  Percy  Earle  was 
standing  back  of  her,  and  he  stooped  down  to 
put  the  glass  of  wine  to  my  lips.  I  sat  up  and 
drank  the  sherry  gratefully.  As  I  did  so,Lou 
Allison,  deathly  pale,  with  lips  and  hands  trem- 
bling, came  in.  She  had  taken  off  her  hat,  and 
a  maid's  apron,  stained  with  blood,  hung  over 
her  frivolous-looking  embroidered  chiffon  skirt. 
She  went  directly  to  Percy,  and  taking  hold  of 
his  hand,  spoke  with  blue  lips : 

"  Dr.  Stanton  has  to  leave  now,  and  I  need  you, 
Percy.  There  is  no  other  man  to  depend  upon." 

I  stood  up  and  tried  to  smooth  my  hair.  Lou 
stared  as  she  recognized  me. 

"  Oh,  Dot !  You  were  with  Belle,  weren't  you  ? 
Didn't  you  think  she  was  dying  ?  I  am  so  fright- 
ened !  She  never  had  one  before."  Lou  was  in- 
deed greatly  discomposed.  I  went  and  kissed 
her  impulsively,  for  I  know  she  dearly  loves  her 
sister.  She  clung  to  me  for  a  moment,  as  chil- 
dren do  in  the  dark. 

"  If  it  should  be  death !"  she  whispered.  "  I 
never  could  stand  anything  about  death."  Her 
lips  quivered  piteously,  and  looking  up  at  her, 
I  had  a  sensation  of  physical  chilliness.  Cold 
death,  lonely  death,  the  mysterious  change  each 


208  Dainty  Devils. 

must  undergo  as  a  solitary  personality ;  no  warm 
handgrip,  no  hot  tears  of  sympathy,  no  earthly 
voice  to  help — its  awfulness  gripped  at  Lou's 
pleasure-loving  heart  and  crushed  it  into  an  in- 
significant, suffering  atom,  rebelling  at  its  in- 
exorable, irremediable  fate.  I  have  heard  Uncle 
Dalton  preach  several  times  every  year  upon 
death,  and  I  always  believed  that  for  me  dissolu- 
tion held  no  terrors.  It  was  with  an  odd  dis- 
appointment I  realized  that  Lou's  despairing 
mood  had  infected  me.  Mutely  I  turned  to 
Marion,  no  syllable  of  comfort  coming  to  my  lips. 

"  It's  not  death,"  she  said,  soothingly,  that  im- 
personal elation  lurking  in  her  eyes,  "  Come,  Dot, 
I've  a  maid  waiting  in  the  hall  with  our  wraps. 
Your  carriage  is  the  only  one  left,  and  I  am  go- 
ing to  take  you  home." 

"  I  can  do  that,"  interposed  Percy  Earle,  "  and 
return  immediately." 

Lou  turned  to  him,  angrily. 

"  You  won't  leave  me  at  such  a  time  ?  "  she 
said,  the  blood  rushing  back  to  her  lips,  and  the 
fear  in  her  eyes  giving  place  to  reproachful  com- 
mand. 

Percy  met  the  look  and  answered  it. 

"  If  I  am  needed  here,  Mrs.  Woodward  will, 
under  the  circumstances,  excuse  me,"  he  said,  in- 
clining his  head  to  me  in  that  graceful,  easy  way 


December.  209 

which  the  girls  rave  over  as  his  "  finished  man- 
ner." 

"  Certainly,"  I  said,  brought  to  it  unwillingly. 
A  maid  rushed  through  the  hall  and,  knocking 
as  she  entered,  darted  toward  Lou. 

"  If  you  please,  Mrs.  St.  John  is  crying  and 
wants  you.  The  doctor  left  some  time  ago,  and 
Mrs.  Blashfield's  afraid  the  excitement  of  crying 
will  bring  on  another  hemorrhage."  The  girl, 
like  most  of  her  class,  gloated  over  the  impor- 
tance of  her  lugubrious  message. 

"  Oh,  mercy !"  exclaimed  Lou,  paling  again. 
"  Come  with  me,  Percy.  I  am  frightened  to 
death !  " 

Marion  put  on  my  wrap, 

"  Mercy — Percy,"  I  said,  vaguely ;  "  they 
rhyme,  did  you  notice?"  My  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  two  figures  I  could  see  between  the 
portieres  going  up  the  wide  stairs.  "  Oh,  Lou 
stumbled!  And  she's  going  now  with  Percy's 
arm  around — " 

Marion  laid  her  hand  over  my  mouth.  She 
was  smiling  caressingly  but  there  was  repression 
in  her  fingers. 

"  It's  time  for  us  to  go,  Dot,"  she  whispered, 
a  catch  in  her  voice.  She  had  turned  her  back 
upon  the  staircase. 

I  snatched  her  hand  down  from  my  mouth  and 
squeezed  it.  I  longed  to  say  everything,  and 

14 


2io  Dainty  Devils. 

something  paralyzed  my  tongue  into  heart-sick 
silence,  as  we  gazed  at  each  other  in  sorrowful 
comprehension  of  our  unspoken  thoughts. 

"  Don't !"  said  Marion,  at  last.  "  I  can't  bear 
pity,  Dot." 

That  is  the  most  she  has  ever  acknowledged  to 
me.  I  sighed  forlornly  as  I  followed  her  out  of 
the  house.  It  was  as  though  I  had  seen  Percy 
Earle  married  to  some  other  girl,  or  carried  out 
dead.  Everything  seemed  over.  Perhaps,  I  re- 
flected, Belle  was  going  to  die,  and  this  was  a  pre- 
monition. Lame  Ann  always  had  one — accord- 
ing to  her  own  assertion  invariably  made  the  day 
after  the  occurrence — before  every  event  in  Gray- 
town  important  enough  to  warrant  the  interven- 
tion of  unseen  powers.  Father  diagnosed  the 
"  premonition  "  as  "  violent  indigestion",  but  I 
never  have  indigestion. 

On  the  steps  under  the  awning,  a  short  man 
was  leisurely  coming  up. 

"  Why !"  he  exclaimed,  stopping  in  front  of 
us.  "  Is  it  all  over,  that  you  are  leaving, 
Marion  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Allison,"  I  hastily  answered, 
courageously  throwing  my  premonition  over- 
board. "  She  won't  die.  But  Lou  and  Mr.  Earle 
are  staying  to  help  Mrs.  Blashfield." 

Mr.  Allison  stood  staring  at  us.  Marion  under- 
stood. 


December.  211 

"  The  tea  ended  suddenly,  Mr.  Allison,  because 
Belle  St.  John  became  ill.  She  will  have  to  re- 
main here  for  two  days.  Lou  is  with  her,  and 
Percy  Earle  stayed.  Mrs.  Woodward  was  with 
Belle  when  the  hemorrhage  occurred,  and  she  is 
so  shocked  and  tired  that  I  am  taking  her  home." 

Mr.  Allison  gasped  once,  and  when  Marion 
had  finished  he  blinked  two  or  three  times.  His 
voice  did  not  come  immediately. 

"  It's  strange  and  most  unfortunate.  Let  me 
put  you  into  the  carriage."  Mr.  Allison  was 
already  himself.  Quite  as  usual,  he  stepped  in 
front  of  the  waiting  footman,  and  made  us  com- 
fortable, parting  from  us  in  his  formal  way. 
Marion  and  I  must  have  had  the  same  thought. 

"  Mr.  Allison  was  a  little  upset,"  she  said,  mus- 
ingly. "  I  never  before  saw  him  so." 

"  Do  you  believe  he  could  ever  be  rash  or 
impulsive?" 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  I've  often  fancied, 
Dot,  that  he  hadn't  any  feelings  whatever,  and 
yet,  perhaps  he's  one  of  those  still  waters  that 
run  deep.  In  short,  don't  ask  me." 

A  thick  fog  was  upon  the  city,  and  the  electric 
lights  shone  through  a  blur.  Still  there  was 
light  enough  for  me  to  see  Marion  draw  in  her 
lower  lip  and  bite  it,  as  if  regretting  her  remark. 

"  You  don't  like  Mr.  Allison,"  I  said,  quickly. 

The  noises  of  the  street  and  the  mud  spatter- 


212  Dainty  Devils. 

ing  the  windows  were  the  only  sounds  till  we 
reached  home.  In  the  house,  Marion  spoke  as 
though  answering  my  accusation. 

"  I  think  a  man  should  be  master." 

"  And  that  Mr.  Allison—" 

Jack  appeared  upon  the  scene  and  I  broke  off. 
"  Hurry,  girls.  Dinner  will  be  announced  soon, 
and  I'm  famishing." 

"  Oh,  Jack !     Haven't  you  heard  ?" 

"  Heard  what,  little  one  ?" 

If  Marion  prefers  emotion  in  others,  while 
aiming  to  be,  against  her  nature,  adamantine  her- 
self, Jack  must  have  reached  her  ideal.  He  sug- 
gested going  to  Blashfields'  without  the  dinner 
for  lack  of  which  he  was  perishing. 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  "  I  cried.  "  We'll  have  dinner 
served  at  once,  and  Marion  and  I  won't  change 
our  gowns.  Please,  Jack." 

He  gave  in,  and  we  sat  down  three  very  sub- 
dued individuals.  Jack  left  us  after  the  soup. 
Marion  and  I  remained  at  the  table,  nibbling  bits 
of  bread  and  celery  and  thinking  of  the  things 
we  generally  make  a  point  of  forgetting;  hor- 
rible things,  ghastly  things,  and  such  sternly  true 
things,  which  we  mostly  leave  religiously  alone 
and  undisturbed  in  the  limited  and  sacred  pre- 
cincts of  our  Bibles  and  Prayerbooks.  If  they 
were  oftener  taken  out  and  used,  familiarity 
might  blunt  their  sharpness,  warm  their  chilli- 


December.  213 

ness,  even  soften  the  undeniable  awfulness  about 
the  facts  of  life — so  uncertain;  and  death — so 
sure! 

Had  we  been  at  home  in  Graytown,  Lame  Ann 
would  never  have  continued  serving  the  dinner. 
What  is  the  use  of  making  a  pile  of  dishes  to 
wash,  if  nobody  eats  anything?  Such  procedure 
is  sinful  extravagance  of  labor. 

Both  of  us  jumped  when  the  door  bell  rang — 
"  stuttered/'  I  always  want  to  say ;  it  is  a 
much  more  appropriate  word  for  the  performance 
of  an  electric  button — Which  proves  "how  ner- 
vous we  were.  Generally  I  never  notice  the  bell. 

Marion  listened  alertly,  her  lips  parted,  her 
head  turned  toward  the  open  door.  It  was  not 
the  voice  of  a  messenger-boy  nor  a  servant. 

"  It's  Mr.  Allison,"  said  she,  sinking  back  into 
her  chair.  Distinct  disappointment  was  in  her 
face.  She  must  have  hoped  it  was  Percy. 

Mr.  Allison  came  to  the  dining-room,  and  I 
sprang  up  to  meet  him,  almost  afraid  to  ask  how 
Belle  was. 

"  Belle  is  no  worse,"  he  said,  taking  the  chair 
the  butler  offered  him,  "  but  pitifully  weak.  May 
I  have  some  dinner,  Mrs.  Woodward  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure.  You  look  badly  in  need 
of  it.  Give  Mr.  Allison  wine  at  once,  Burton." 

"  It  is  quite  humiliating,  Mrs.  Woodward,  still 
I'm  obliged  to  confess  that  I'm  hungry,  having 


214  Dainty  Devils. 

had  nothing  since  breakfast.  I  tried  to  bring 
Lou  with  me,  but  she  refused  to  leave,  although 
the  trained  nurse  has  arrived.  She  promised  to 
take  some  dinner,  with  Mrs.  Blashfield  and  Percy 
Earle." 

Not  a  trace  of  excitement  was  in  Mr.  Allison's 
voice.  Marion  began  to  tear  a  celery-leaf  into 
bits.  I  wondered  anxiously  what  I  should  do  if 
she  lost  her  self-control.  I  have  always  heard 
that  when  these  startlingly  self-possessed  people 
break  down,  the  results  are  dangerous,  especially 
when  the  self-possession  is  like  Marion's,  ac- 
quired, not  inborn. 

"  Had  Jack  arrived  when  you  left  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  Belle  was  extremely  glad  to  see 
him." 

I  smiled  comprehendingly.  Who  would  not  be 
glad  to  see  dear  old  Jack  ? 

Mr.  Allison  ate  sparingly.  I  was  grateful  to 
him  for  making  short  work  of  his  dinner,  because 
the  servants  in  the  dining-room  kept  me  upon  a 
strain,  and  the  relief  was  delicious  when  we  three 
got  into  the  library,  and  Mr.  Allison  gravely 
closed  the  doors.  His  movements  are  always 
oddly  like  an  old  maid's. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  of  something,  Mrs. 
Woodward.  You  don't  object  to  the  cigar? 
Thank  you.  Sit  here,  Marion;  there  is  always 
draught  from  the  window  in  that  corner." 


December.  215 

I  laughed  nervously,  watching  Marion  solemnly 
obey.  Once  more  Mr.  Allison's  grave  fatherli- 
ness  impressed  me.  Glancing  at  his  face,  its 
set  whiteness  angered  me  the  next  instant. 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  Mr.  Allison  ?  Your 
manner  freezes  my  blood.  Can't  you — oh,  dear ! 
can't  you  get  excited?" 

An  odd  expression  flitted  across  his  plain  face. 
I  looked  from  him  to  Marion,  and  saw  her  start. 

"  I  found  out  long  ago,  that  it's  better  not  to 
be  demonstrative." 

"  That's  all  well  enough.  Only  you  can't 
make  me  believe  you're  quite  as  calm  within." 
I  was  extremely  irritated. 

Mr.  Allison  seemed  lost  in  the  enjoyment  of 
his  cigar,  and  I  knew  that  my  voice,  more  than 
my  words,  had  been  very  impertinent.  The 
thought  quickened  my  resentment.  Marion 
moved  uneasily. 

"  I've  a  dreadful  headache,"  she  said,  rising 
abruptly.  "  If  I  should  be  needed  for  anything, 
will  you  send  for  me,  Dot?  I  should  like  to  lie 
down." 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  Marion  glided 
to  the  door,  which  Mr.  Allison  opened  for  her. 

"  She  is  a  very  intelligent  girl,"  he  said,  drop- 
ping into  his  chair  again.  "  And  I  would  indeed 
rather  have  our  conversation  alone,  Mrs.  Wood- 
ward." 


216  Dainty  Devils. 

"Yes?"  My  heart  beat  wildly.  Was  Belle 
dead,  and  had  he  been  keeping  the  truth  from  us  ? 

"  You  know,  Mrs.  Woodward,  that  Belle  has  a 
husband — which  sort  doesn't  matter.  He  is  still 
her  husband." 

"  Yes,"  I  repeated,  this  time  affirmatively,  al- 
though surprised  at  the  turn  Mr.  Allison's  words 
had  taken. 

He  laid  his  cigar  in  the  ash-receiver. 

"  There  is  every  probability — I  speak  confiden- 
tially— that  Belle  has  tuberculosis,  and  the  quick- 
est kind." 

I  gripped  the  arms  of  my  chair ;  that  sickening 
faintness  was  overpowering  me  again.  As  long 
as  I  live,  I  shall  never  forget  Belle  in  that  hem- 
orrhage. Through  a  gathering  dimness,  I  saw 
Allison  rise  hastily.  The  next  moment  his  voice, 
coldly  courteous,  angered  me  into  full  conscious- 
ness. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon ;  let  us  change  the  sub- 
ject, Mrs.  Woodward.  Shall  I  call  Marion?" 

"  No !  "  I  fairly  screamed.  "  Go  on !  Only 
don't  expect  me  to  be  like  you — or  Marion." 

"That's  better,"  encouragingly;  "I've  often 
found  that  a  little  temper  is  salutary.  It's  only 
the  mighty  ones  that  are  deplorable.  Mrs. 
Woodward,  you  don't  know  all  the  circumstances, 
you  are  a  good  deal  younger  than  any  of  us,  and 
can  dare  much  more.  If  Dr.  Stanton  will  per- 


December.  217 

mit  it,  and  Jack  doesn't  object,  will  you  go  to 
Belle  in  the  morning,  and  ask  her  to  send  for  St. 
John?" 

Speechless  I  stared  at  Mr.  Allison.  Not  a 
muscle  in  his  face  showed  a  trace  of  expression, 
not  an  inflection  of  his  voice  betrayed  any  particu- 
lar interest  in  what  he  was  saying.  Only  his 
eyes,  small,  indefinitely  grey,  blue,  green,  squint- 
ing a  bit  under  spectacles,  gleamed  as  I  had 
never  dreamed  they  could. 

"  I  ask  it  for  both  of  them,"  he  continued,  after 
a  moment.  "  It  would  be  so  much  better  if  he 
were  with  Belle  the  few  months  she  may  live." 

"  Why  don't  you  send  for  him,  and  say  nothing 
until  he  has  arrived  ?" 

"  You  poor  child !  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs. 
Woodward.  St.  John  took  an  oath  never  to  re- 
turn unless  Belle  herself  sent  for  him." 

"  She  is  ill.  You  could  say  that,"  I  said,  in  a 
low  voice.  "  How  can  he  know  she  is  able  to 
write  ?" 

The  next  moment  I  felt  myself  the  meanest, 
smallest  thing  in  all  creation.  Mr.  Allison 
turned  his  gaze  from  my  face  and  said  slowly : 

"  I  abominate  falsehood ;  active,  passive  or  im- 
plied." 

I  blushed  vividly:  no  one  had  ever  accused 
me  of  being  a  liar. 

"  And  I   assure  you,  besides,  that  St.  John 


218  Dainty  Devils. 

would  suffer  torture  unto  death  before  he  would 
break  that  unfortunate  oath.  You  don't  know 
him,  Mrs.  Woodward." 

"  If  he  is  so  awful,  will  it  be  wise  to  bring  him 
to  Belle?" 

For  the  second  time  I  wilted  under  Mr.  Alli- 
son's words. 

"  She  married  him  for  better  or  worse,  didn't 
she?  She  is  in  honor  bound  to  keep  her  vows 
until  death  releases  her  from  them.  And  St. 
John  is  by  no  means  all  bad." 

"But  how  shall  I  ask  her?" 

"  Leave  that  to  the  inspiration  of  the  moment. 
I'm  sure  you  can  do  it,  and  you're  the  only  one." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door;  at  the  same 
instant  it  opened.  Both  Mr.  Allison  and  I  were 
startled.  Crosson  asked  lamely  whether  he 
should  not  turn  off  the  steam-heat  ?  I  recollected 
him  and  a  tea-tray  the  day  Percy  Earle  was  here, 
and  answered  with  considerable  annoyance  that 
the  steam-heat  was  all  right.  Mentally  I  noted 
that  Blackwell  should  discharge  him  as  soon  as 
his  month  was  up.  I  like  servants  noiseless  to 
a  reasonable  degree  about  the  house.  Crosson's 
noiselessness  verges  upon  that  of  the  uncanny 
or  the  sneak. 

"  I'll  attend  to  the  matter,  Mr.  Allison,"  I  said, 
in  an  exaggeratedly  business-like  tone,  intended 


December.  219 

for  Crosson's  enlightenment.  "  Will  to-morrow 
be  the  best  time  ?  " 

"  I  fancy  so.  Believe  me,  the  matter  is  most 
urgent." 

Crosson  having  departed,  I  began  eagerly : 

"  You  don't  expect  me  to  tell  Belle  she's  going 
to  die,  do  you  ?  I  couldn't  do  it." 

"  It's  odd  nobody  wants  to  do  that,  not  even 
the  ministers.  And  yet  we're  all  so  sure  of  the 
event  sooner  or  later !  You  can  leave  that  out, 
specifically :  for  after  all,  Belle  may,  with  care, 
improve.  Just  ask  her  in  your  own  natural  way 
whether  she  would  not  like  her  husband  here  to 
help  nurse  her — Oh,  anything  that  comes  into 
your  head !  You'll  surely  succeed  in  suggesting 
it  some  way  or  other." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that :  Belle  doesn't  like 
me." 

"  Who  told  you  so  ?    I'm  pretty  sure  she  does." 

"  No,  she  couldn't :  I've  scolded  her,  and  re- 
fused to  do  her  a  favor.  It  was  against  my  con- 
science," I  added,  unguardedly,  and,  I  believe  un- 
intentionally treacherous  in  my  explanation. 

Mr.  Allison  lit  a  fresh  cigar. 

"  I'm  glad  you  refused  the  favor,"  said  he. 

"  Why  ?  You  can't  know  what  it  was !  "  I  ex- 
claimed. 

"  There  are  some  people  who  are  unfortunately 
very  observing;  they  miss  even  trifles.  Not  a 


22O  Dainty  Devils. 

pin  or  a  ring  escapes  them."  Mr.  Allison  nodded 
at  a  small  stick-pin  I  had  in  my  stock,  and  not 
for  my  life  could  I  have  said  whether  his  choice 
of  "  trifles  "  was  accidental  or  deliberate. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Woodward,  you  are  worn  out,  and 
I  beg  you  to  retire.  With  your  permission  I'll 
wait  here  for  Jack.  In  the  morning  try  to  go  to 
Belle,  won't  you?" 

"  Yes.  But  won't  you  be  bored,  down  here 
alone?" 

"  No,  I'll  read.     Good-night." 

Mr.  Allison  went  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  with 
me.  I  had  a  question  upon  my  tongue  which  I 
did  not  put  to  him.  It  was  about  his  powers  of 
observing  his  wife  and  Percy  Earle. 

Whenever  she  came  to  visit  me,  Marion  slept 
in  a  small  room  next  the  boudoir ;  I  made  this 
arrangement  so  I  could  run  in  to  see  her  at  any 
time,  without  going  through  the  hall,  my  room 
connecting  with  the  boudoir  on  the  other  side. 
To-night  I  went  to  Marion's  room  from  the 
stairs.  She  did  not  answer  my  knock. 

"  Marion !    Are  you  there?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  but  go  to  bed,  Dot." 

Of  course  I  went  in  at  once.  The  lights  were 
out,  but  through  the  windows  came  the  illumina- 
tion of  electric  lights  on  the  Avenue,  and  I  could 
see  her  sitting  listlessly  in  the  rocking-chair. 
Her  black  hair  was  in  a  long  braid  drawn  for- 


December.  221 

ward  over  her  shoulder,  her  feet  were  bare,  and, 
although  the  room  was  very  chilly,  she  wore 
nothing  warmer  than  a  night-dress. 

"  Marion,  where  are  your  slippers  ?  Are  you 
trying  to  make  yourself  ill?  Get  your  Kimono 
or  jump  into  bed." 

Marion  pulled  me  down  to  her  lap,  wrapped 
her  arms  around  me  and  began  to  rock. 

"  Poor  little  Dot !  You  must  be  desperately 
tired,  or  you  wouldn't  be  so  cross.  I'm  terribly 
healthy,  and  I  never  take  cold.  Don't  worry !" 

Marion  pressed  her  cheek  to  mine  and  hold- 
ing each  other  closely,  we  rocked  for  some  time 
in  silence. 

"Did  Mr.  Allison  go?"  she  asked,  at  last. 

"  No ;  he's  waiting  downstairs  for  Jack." 

"  How  queer !"  she  exclaimed. 

The  next  minute  Marion  burst  into  tempestu- 
ous weeping  with  her  head  dropped  into  my  neck. 

I  stood  it  for  a  few  minutes.  Then  I  went  to 
pieces,  and  we  vied  with  each  other  in  sobbing 
and  moaning.  We  were  both  in  hysterics,  al- 
though I  never  would  have  conceded  it  possible 
for  me  to  be  guilty  of  anything  so  foolish.  The 
first  paroxysm  over,  we  began  to  console  our- 
selves in  the  peculiar  fashion  of  women. 

"  Jack's  going  to  stay  all  night,"  I  began,  fear- 
fully. 


222  Dainty  Devils. 

"  She  must  be  much  worse,"  supplemented 
Marion. 

"  It's  odd  Jack  hasn't  telephoned."  I  ended  this 
on  a  high  broken  note,  and  went  off  noisily  again. 

"  Perhaps — ''  gulped  Marion. 

"  Perhaps  what  ? — Don't  torture  me." 

"  Perhaps  Jack  started  and  has  met  with — " 
Marion  fairly  whooped  like  a  child  with  genuine 
whooping-cough.  I  clutched  her  and  finished 
her  sentence. 

"  An  accident  ?  Don't  Marion,  don't !  O-o- 
o-oh!" 

"  Dot,"  severely,  "  you  have  hysterics ! 
Stop!" 

"  You  stop  first !  I  never  should  have  had 
them  if  you  hadn't  begun.  And  I  thought  you 
so  ca-a-alm !" 

"  If  you  act  like  this  now,  Dot,  what  would 
you  do  in  real  trouble?  For  instance,  if  Belle 
died?" 

"  It's  much  worse  to  see  some  one  have  a  hem- 
orrhage than  to  see  some  one  only  dead." 

"  Oh !  Oh !  Oh !  "  screamed  Marion,  laughing 
wildly.  "  How  can  you  say  such  awful  things !  " 

"  I  didn't  say  anything  awful,"  indignalidy ; 
"  and  your  laughing  when  death  is  in  the  famiW 
is  wicked." 

"  The  doctor  said  Belle  wouldn't  die."    Marion 


December.  223 

was  beginning  to  come  to  herself.  "  Dot,  haven't 
we  been  talking  nonsense  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  I  said  wearily,  fresh  tears 
coming.  "  Jack  hasn't  come  home,  and  it's  late, 
and  Belle  is  awfully  sick — " 

"  There,  there !  Run  down  and  telephone, 
dear.  And  say  Mr.  Allison  will  start  at 
once  to  relieve  Jack,  so  he  can  come  home." 

"  You  clever  thing !"  drying  my  eyes.  "  I'll 
speak  to  Mr.  Allison  first,  and  get  him  off  right 
away." 

Marion  kissed  me  tremulously. 

"  Dot,"  she  whispered,  hesitatingly,  "  you 
won't  tell  anybody — I  particularly  mean  Jack — 
how  excitable  I  am,  when — when  the  reserve  I 
struggled  for  years  to  attain  breaks  down  ?  Will 
you  promise  ?  " 

"  You  dear,  beautiful  simpleton,  I'll  never  tell. 
But  why  Jack  specially  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  a  little  embarrassed — "  Jack  might  tell 
— other  people,  you  know." 

"  Who  would  be  glad  to  hear  it,  I  believe.  Let 
me  go  downstairs  now ;  I  am  really  anxious  about 
Jack.  And,  dear,  put  your  ice-cold  feet  in  bed." 

I  was  half-blind  as  I  reached  the  hall,  between 
the  change  from  the  dimness  of  Marion's  apart- 
ment into  the  brilliant  light,  and  my  cried-out 
eyes.  I  stumbled  down  the  stairs,  and  went  to 
Mr.  Allison  in  the  library.  He  sprang  out  of  his 


224  Dainty  Devils. 

chair  at  sight  of  me.  I  must  have  been  a  very 
startling  picture,  with  my  red  face  and  crazy 
head. 

"  Mrs.  Woodward !    Are  you  up  yet?  " 
"  Yes,    I'm    worried    to    death    about    Jack. 
Won't  you  go  to  Blashfields'  and  stay  there,  so 
Jack  can  come  home?     He  didn't  say  he'd  stay 
all  night,  and  I'm  anxious." 

"  You  are  right,"  Mr.  Allison  said,  slowly. 
He  put  his  book  back  into  its  place.  His  man- 
ner was  that  of  one  plainly  seeing  a  duty  and 
struggling  against  an  aversion  to  it.  I  do  not 
believe  that  any  amount  of  illness  or  death  could 
phase  him.  Strong  as  he  is  mentally,  he 
is  certainly  weak  at  that  one  point,  not  mental, 
but  of  the  heart,  where  Lou  is  concerned.  For 
an  instant  he  appeared  to  brace  himself — It  must 
have  been  to  meet  Lou  with  Percy  Earle. 

"  If  you  go  there,"  I  continued,  "  you'll  have 
Lou,  and  I'll  have  Jack." 
"  Ahem !  Yes— You'll  have  Jack." 
Mr.  Allison  turned  from  the  book-shelves  to 
me,  and  smiled  cheerfully.  I  gazed  at  him  won- 
deringly,  the  pain  in  my  eyes  and  head  seem- 
ing suddenly  more  intense,  and  rather  inclining 
me  to  miserable  silence  unless  speech  were  a 
necessity.  As  for  an  answering  smile,  that  were 
too  vast  a  work  of  supererogation.  I  was  tired, 
worried  and  wretched. 


December.  225 

Every  one  cannot  be  girt  and  ready  for  the 
fray  in  an  instant — like  Mr.  Allison.  Had  I 
been  utterly  mistaken  in  the  idea  that  his  voice 
contained  a  note  of  deep  and  bitter  sadness?  It 
would  seem  so.  As  he  still  stood  smiling,  I  at 
last  made  an  effort  to  say : 

"  Really,  I  wish  you'd  go  at  once.  And  I'll 
telephone  Jack  besides.  I  must  find  out  whether 
he's  all  right." 

"  An  excellent  idea !  Good-night,  Mrs.  Wood- 
ward." 

We  stood  together  at  the  library  door,  Mr. 
Allison  bowing  over  my  hand,  when  Crosson 
rather  hurriedly  passed  us  in  the  hall,  ostenta- 
tiously carrying  a  lamp-extinguisher.  An  ex- 
pression of  my  childhood,  one  for  which  father 
frequently  chastised  me,  rose  to  my  mind, 
although  I  could  not  have  definitely  told  why: 
"  Drat  that  man !  " 

It  seemed  an  eternity  before  Central  gave  me 
the  Blashfields'  telephone  number. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Woodward  at  the  phone." 

Another  long  wait.  I  almost  danced  up  and 
down. 

"Yes?  Who  is  it?"  Evidently  Jack  did  not 
know  it  was  I !  Such  a  voice ! 

"  Dot.  Come  home,  won't  you  ?  Mr.  Allison 
will  be  there  in  a  few  minutes,  and  he'll  stay 
till  morning.  How  is  Belle  ? "  I  spoke  with 

15 


226  Dainty  Devils. 

particular  sweetness,  to  shame  Jack  for  his  gruff- 
ness.  A  woman  who  is  gentle,  is  almost  omnipo- 
tent. 

"  All  right,  only  horribly  nervous.  I'll  come 
as  soon  as  Allison  gets  here."  What  a  flattering 
change  of  tone!  The  telephone  is  the  cause  of 
many  a  revelation.  And  the  soft  answer — of  a 
woman — will  turn  away  much  wrath  indeed — 
from  a  man.  What  good  are  our  texts  if  they 
are  never  practically  applied?  Surely  the  Holy 
Book  is  for  daily  use,  not  for  Sunday  complain- 
ings, alone,  when  song  and  organ  and  euphonious 
prayers  have  lulled  and  numbed  us  into  over- 
tranquillity,  and  its  wholesome  admonitions  and 
plain  lessons  cannot  rouse  us  into  a  sense  of 
their  being  personally  addressed  to  our  own  ad- 
mirable selves. 

"  Is — "  I  paused.  How  could  I  ask  Jack  if 
Percy  Earle  was  still  there  ?  "  Jack,  is — I  mean 
— are  you  the  only  man  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  Outside  the  servants — yes.  What  a  ques- 
tion!" 

"  I  am  so  glad !    Come  soon.    Good-bye." 

I  hung  up  the  receiver  and  flew  to  Marion. 
The  angelic  soul  was  on  her  knees  praying,  her 
head  buried  in  the  bed  in  the  most  contrite, 
reverent  fashion,  which  I  did  not  scruple  to  dis- 
turb. 

"  Marion !    I  beg  your  pardon,  but  Percy's  not 


December.  227 

— Dear  me — that  is,  Jack's  the  only  man  at 
Blashfields'." 

Marion  lifted  her  head  and  remained  kneeling. 

"  I  was  saying  my  prayers,  Dot." 

"  Yes,  I  know."  I  pressed  the  button  which 
controlled  the  lights,  and  the  room  was  brilliantly 
illuminated. 

"  Dot,  what  are  you  doing?  " 

"  Oh,  please  get  up  and  let  me  look  at  you, 
Marion.  No,  I'm  not  crazy,  dear.  You  needn't 
be  alarmed.  I  wanted  to  see — yes,  it's  back — 
your  look  of  bright  serenity.  Only  you  have 
red  eyelids,  and  your  nose  isn't  quite  as  aristo- 
cratically pale  as  it  ought  to  be.  Tell  me,  Marion, 
is  it  praying  that  makes  you  so  superior  a  be- 
ing?" 

Marion  stumbled  to  her  feet,  and  walked  si- 
lently to  the  electric  button.  Turning  off  the 
lights,  she  spoke,  for  her  rather  haughtily : 

"  Dot,  please  go  to  bed  and  permit  me  the 
privacy  of  my  room.  I  don't  think  you're  a  bit 
kind  this  evening." 

I  was  crushed.  Marion  was  not  jesting.  Sud- 
denly I  had  a  comprehension  of  her  humiliation 
because  she  had  broken  down  with  me.  Ah! 
Marion,  with  all  her  sweetness  is  mightily  proud ! 

"  Good-night,  dear,"  I  said,  going  without  kiss- 
ing her. 

"  Good-night,  Dot.    Wait  a  minute." 


228  Dainty  Devils. 

She  came  after  me  and  put  her  arms  around 
me. 

"  Don't  be  angry,  Dot ;  I'm  only  cross  and  dis- 
appointed with  myself.  You're  a  darling." 

A  kiss,  a  push  at  the  shoulders,  and  Marion 
had  shut  me  out.  Then  she  laughed  from  behind 
the  closed  door,  and  I  went  slowly  to  my  room, 
too  weary  and  dull  to  be  angry  or  worried  or 
anything  else. 

Perkins  was  pacing  the  room  when  I  entered 
it.  I  fancied  she  had  resorted  to  the  exercise 
to  keep  awake,  till  I  found  her  hands  shaking 
as  she  undressed  me,  and  glancing  at  her  saw  that 
she  was  crying. 

"Are  you  ill,  Perkins?" 

"  No,  Madam." 

It  was  a  vast  effort  to  interest  myself,  but 
Uncle  Dalton's  voice  seemed  to  float  through  the 
air,  saying  "  Christian  sympathy,"  and  I  bravely 
proceeded  to  ask : 

"In  trouble,  then?" 

"  N — no — That  is,  yes.  Oh,  it's  nothing, 
Madam.  Only  my  husband  who  hasn't  let  me 
know  where  he  was  for  fifteen  years,  is  writing 
now  to  his  loving  wife  for  five  hundred  dollars ! 
Oh.  Madam,  human  beings  is  very  strange 
things !  " 

I  yawned  sleepily,  "  Very  strange  things !  " 
The  woman  had  voiced  the  cry  of  my  heart,  the 


December.  229 

cry  which  had  been  mine  now  for  nearly  two 
months. 

"  Yes,  Perkins,"  I  said  solemnly,  "  you're  right. 
Human  beings  are  the  strangest  things  in  all 
the  world.  Don't  be  surprised  at  anything." 

I  got  into  bed,  repeating  the  advice  to  myself. 
I  intended  not  to  fall  asleep  before  Jack  came 
home,  but  the  words  turned  themselves  into  a 
refrain — "  Don't  ever  be  surprised — ever  be  sur- 
prised— at  anything — "  which  was  soporific  in  its 
rhythm,  and  I  weakly  succumbed. 


"  Sit  here  by  Mrs.  Woodward  till  she  wakens. 
She  was  very  restless  all  night." 

It  was  Jack  giving  Perkins  instructions. 
"  Jack !    I'm  awake !    How's  Belle  ?  " 
"  Much  better.    Don't  get  up,  dear." 
"  Yes,  I  shall  Jack — and  at  once." 
"  You  seem  to  have  wakened  cross." 
"  Not  at  all ;  I've  something  important  to  at- 
tend to.    Run  along  now.    I'll  soon  be  down,  and 
I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

I  was  rather  nervous  at  the  prospect  before 
me.  Perkins  was  clumsy  and  nervous  too,  par- 
ticularly in  the  arranging  of  my  dreadful  mop 
of  hair.  No  wonder  Jack  laughed  teasingly 
when  I  at  last  appeared  at  breakfast. 
"  If  this  be  soon—"  he  began, 


230  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Don't !  "  I  said,  beseechingly ;  "  I'm  very 
serious,  Jack." 

"  Oh,  I'd  rather  you  were  frivolous.  It's  more 
in  character  with  the  shape  of  your  face." 

I  drank  my  coffee  and  said  nothing;  it  was 
cruel  joy  to  me  that  the  coffee  scalded  my  mouth. 

"What  is  it,  darling?" 

The  servants  were  momentarily  invisible,  and 
Jack  atoned  for  his  naughtiness  by  the  dearest 
voice  in  the  world. 

Setting  down  my  cup,  I  straightened  import- 
antly. 

"  Jack,  it's  only  fitting  that  Mr.  St.  John  should 
come  home  to  his  wife." 

Jack  gazed  at  me  in  wonderment.  My  next 
remark  rather  marred  the  effect. 

"  Mr.  Allison  says  so." 

"  Oh !  Well,  Dot,  what  have  you  to  do  with 
the  matter?" 

"  I'm  going  to  see  Belle — if  you  don't  object 
— and  ask  her  to  cable  him  to  come  home." 

The  cable  was  my  original  idea.  The  Post 
to  Europe  would  not  be  quick  enough  in  this 
matter.  It  was  exactly  like  Allison,  I  reflected, 
to  suggest  a  slow  way  of  encompassing  anything. 

For  some  seconds  Jack  did  not  speak.  He  sat 
frowning,  apparently  at  some  object  to  be  seen 
from  the  window.  Watching  him,  I  became  lost 
in  the  contemplation  of  his  fine  profile. 


December.  231 

"  Jack,"  I  breathed,  "  what  a  lovely  nose  yours 
is!" 

He  started  and  the  frown  faded  into  a  broad 
smile. 

"  Dot,  do  you  know  what  you  were  speaking  of 
two  minutes  ago  ?  " 

I  was  very  much  mortified.  My  short  nose  is 
to  blame  for  my  abnormal  interest  in  that  feature. 

"  Of  course  I  do.  My  mind  only  wandered 
for  a  single  instant.  Tell  me,  may  I  go  to 
Belle?" 

"  I  am  considering,  little  one.  What  will  you 
say?" 

"  Don't  know." 

Although  my  heart  was  beginning  to  fail  me, 
I  spoke  nonchalantly  enough.  Jack's  frown  re- 
turned, and  he  sat  furiously  pulling  his  mous- 
tache. No  encouragement  apparent,  my  heart 
failed  more,  and  I,  as  women  will,  took  refuge 
in  a  reproachful  tone: 

"  You  don't  seem  to  have  much  faith  in  my 
ability,  Jack." 

"  I'm  afraid,  dear,  that  your  task  won't  be 
a  pleasant  one.  Have  you  finished?  Come,  let 
us  walk  over  together." 

It  was  so  absolutely  and  unadulteratedly  man- 
nish— to  take  me  up  at  my  word  without  any 
objection  or  argument  to  speak  of — that  Jack's 
sudden  acquiesence  made  me  give  a  feminine 


232  Dainty  Devils. 

gulp  and  gasp  of  protest  at  the  calm  command  to 
do  what  I  had  expected  to  be  indignantly 
forbidden.  According  to  my  understanding  of 
the  case,  Jack  and  I  ought  to  have  had  quite 
a  lengthy  scene  first,  his  ultimate  consent  to  my 
proposition  being  the  direct  result  of  the  most 
patient  and  self-controlled  eloquence.  As  mat- 
ters eventuated,  I  was  to  go  the  minute  I  finished 
my  breakfast,  and  Jack's  decision  influenced  me 
to  the  extent  of  my  leaving  the  table  at  once, 
oblivious — till  a  couple  of  hours  later — of  the  fact 
that  I  had  not  eaten  half  enough.  Meekly  and 
dutifully  I  hurried  into  street  things.  Hardly  ten 
minutes  had  passed  since  Jack's  ultimatum,  when 
we  were  on  the  way. 

Jack  strode  most  unkindly  and  thoughtlessly, 
and  almost  gasping  I  reached  Blashfields'.  The 
house  was  ominously  still — a  painful  contrast  to 
the  gay,  noisy  scene  of  yesterday. 

The  man  who  went  upstairs  to  inquire,  said 
we  could  go  up  at  once.  Mrs.  St.  John  was  very 
comfortable.  I  turned  to  Jack,  trembling  a  little. 

"  Don't  come  with  me,"  I  said,  rather  faintly. 
"  I'll  do  better  alone." 

"  Yes,  Dot,  you  will." 

Jack  pressed  my  hand,  and  I  turned  resolutely 
to  my  errand.  Perhaps  it  was  lack  of  experience, 
but  it  looked  like  a  hard  one  to  me,  and  I 
earnestly  wanted  to  succeed. 


December.  233 

Belle  was  very  white  and  changed.  She  smiled 
as  I  kissed  her,  and  I  am  sure  she  was  glad 
to  see  me. 

"  Lou's  asleep,"  she  whispered.  "  The  first 
time — she  never  left  me  till  an  hour  ago." 

"  Yes,  the  nurse  said  so,  and  that  I  must  not 
stop  long.  You  can  go  home  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,  if  you  want  to  call  it  home.  It's  nicer 
here." 

Belle's  dark  eyes  roved  over  the  beautiful 
room,  and  lit  for  an  instant  upon  each  lovely 
object.  I  was  already  at  a  loss  for  a  congenial 
remark.  Bitterness,  covetousness,  a  savage  ap- 
preciation of  luxury,  burned  in  the  sick  woman's 
eyes,  and  her  childish  mouth  was  set  and  ugly. 
Suddenly  my  inspiration  came. 

"  Belle,"  I  said,  tightly  clasping  my  hands, 
"  if — if  your  husband  were  with  you,  wouldn't  it 
be  possible  for  you  to  have  more  of  a  home  than 
you  have  now?" 

Recalling  the  scene  and  circumstances  I  won- 
der that  Belle  permitted  me  to  finish. 

Gazing  at  me  fixedly,  she  did  not  move  for 
several  seconds.  The  morning  sun,  growing 
higher,  sent  a  ray  from  under  the  curtain  into 
Belle's  staring  eyes.  Mechanically  I  rose  and 
pulled  down  the  shade.  While  my  back  was 
turned,  Belle  began,  rapidly  in  spite  of  frequent 
gasps  for  breath. 


234  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Dot,  I  lie  here  helpless,  and  you  take  advan- 
tage of  me.  I  dare  not  get  up  and  strike  you, 
because  the  act  might  cost  my  life.  And  in  spite 
of  all,  death  is  more  bitter  than  the  worst  life 
that  ever  was.  I  tell  you  that  I'd  kill  him  if 
I  saw  him.  Do  you  hear?  Lou's  house  isn't 
heaven,  I  allow,  but  St.  John's  house  was  hell." 

I  stood  terrified  and  speechless.  Belle  panted 
and  clutched  at  the  counterpane.  After  a  mo- 
ment she  began  again,  her  voice  low  and  piteous, 
in  sharp  contrast  to  her  first  outburst : 

"  I  was  young  when  I  married  him,  Dot — only 
a  few  months  older  than  you  are  now.  And 
I  loved  him — loved  him  almost  to  the  verge  of 
insanity.  He  cheated  me  of  my  happiness,  he 
crushed  my  pride.  He  was  a  beast — and  my  kind 
friends  said :  '  I  told  you  so.'  Now  they  think 
I  am  dying,  do  they  ?  And  they  want  me  to  call 
him  back." 

Belle  turned  her  head  away  from  me,  her  last 
words  dying  into  a  faint  murmur,  almost  like 
one  thinking  aloud.  Involuntarily  I  dropped  to 
my  knees  beside  the  bed,  hiding  my  face  in 
Belle's  pillow.  To  my  chagrin  I  discovered  that 
I  was  crying.  Belle  apparently  took  no  notice. 
A  stir  in  the  next  room  brought  me  to  my  feet. 

"  Mrs.  St.  John  must  not  talk  too  long,"  said 
the  nurse  at  the  doorway,  with  professional  im- 
portance. 


December.  235 

"  Mrs.  Woodward  will  go  in  five  minutes/' 
Belle  returned,  haughty  rebuke  in  her  voice.  The 
nurse  disappeared. 

"Good-bye,"  I  said,  faintly;  "I  hope  you'll 
feel  much  better  to-morrow,  Belle." 

Belle  pushed  back  her  fluffy  blonde  hair.  An 
unmirthful  smile  played  about  her  lips. 

"  Good-bye,  Dot.  I  shan't  die.  You  will  see. 
Next  week,  I'll  be  at  it  again.  Cards  and  whis- 
key, and  sometimes  morphine.  Do  you  shudder  ? 
Oh,  I'm  a  hopeless  case.  Thank  goodness,  Mrs. 
Robertson  is  paid,  and  I'll  start  free!  She  did 
have  a  most  mysterious  debt,  herself.  I  wonder 
what  the  deuce  it  was  ?  " 

I  kissed  the  hot  cheek  and  went  away  without 
another  word.  The  nurse  had  a  scathingly  re- 
proachful expression  upon  her  face  as  she  bade 
me  "  Good  morning."  My  heart  sank  with  the 
thought  that  her  disapproval  was  just  and  mer- 
ited. When,  late  in  the  afternoon,  Jack  was  has- 
tily summoned  because  Belle  had  had  another 
hemorrhage  and  was  very  low,  I  felt  like  an 
executioner.  Even  Jack  changed  color.  I  firmly 
believe  that  if  Belle  had  died,  I  should  have  lost 
my  reason. 

Owing  to  the  excitement  over  graver  matters, 
I  forgot  Crosson  till  evening.  Sending  for 
Blackwell,  I  discovered  that  Crosson's  month 
would  be  up  to-day. 


236  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Discharge  him  at  once." 

"  But,  Madam — "  Blackwell  paused,  in  con- 
fusion. 

"  Send  him  away  at  once.  I  don't  care  to  give 
an  order  twice.  As  he  had  no  warning,  pay  him 
an  extra  month." 

"  Yes,  Madam." 

So  Crosson  is  out  of  the  house.  It  was  a 
very  good  thing  I  had  that  tilt  with  Black- 
well.  I  no  longer  find  myself  becoming  para- 
lyzed at  the  thought  of  giving  her  a  command. 
And  the  whole  house  is  cleaner,  so  that  I  shall 
not  be  mortally  ashamed  if  Lame  Ann  comes 
to  visit  me.  What  a  salutary  example  Lame  Ann 
was  to  me  in  my  youthful  years!  Not  a  thing 
goes  awry  in  this  elegant  household,  not  a  diffi- 
culty arises,  that  I  do  not  instantly  ask  myself: 
"  What  would  Lame  Ann  do  ?  "  Faithful,  saucy, 
defiant,  devoted,  in  spite  of  frequent  battles  and 
daily  rebellion,  Lame  Ann  has  my  tender  love 
and  sincerest  admiration,  and  should  the  promise 
she  once  exacted  from  me — to  put  up  a  monu- 
ment for  her — ever  come  to  be  fulfilled,  I  am 
determined  to  inscribe  thereon  her  name  in  gold. 

Jack  did  not  inquire  as  to  the  success  of  my 
visit  to  Belle.  That  I  met  him  red-eyed  and 
silent  was  sufficient.  Before  he  left  in  the  after- 
noon at  the  news  that  Belle's  condition  was  well- 
nigh  hopeless,  he  whispered  a  few  words  to  com- 


December.  237 

fort  me.  They  only  added  to  my  trepidation.  If 
Jack  were  not  alarmed,  he  would  not  try  to  con- 
sole. 

It  was  late  when  he  returned  and  found  me 
waiting. 

"  She's  all  right,  little  one.  Dr.  Stanton  said 
the  second  hemorrhage  would  have  occurred  in 
any  case." 

In  any  case!  That  meant  even  though  I  had 
not  gone  to  Belle.  I  sighed  out  my  relief.  Jack's 
arm  was  around  me,  and  considerable  of  my 
trouble  always  evaporates  at  that  strong,  reassur- 
ing support,  anyway.  How  did  I  exist  before 
I  had  Jack  ? — Ah ! — to  be  sure,  I  had  no  troubles 
then! 

"  I  went  with  a  good  motive,  Jack.  I  was 
thinking  Belle  might  like  to  forgive  as  she  hopes 
to  be  forgiven." 

Jack  gravely  kissed  my  forehead. 

"  It's  not  for  us  to  consider  whether  Belle  has 
more  to  be  forgiven  than  we  ourselves." 

I  was  humble  for  a  minute.  Then  I  burst  out 
laughing : 

"  Jack !  May  I  smoke  and  drink  and  gamble  ? 
And  won't  you  consider  at  all  ?  " 

"  For  shame,  Dot !  " 

And  I  kissed  his  frown  away,  not  solemnly  as 
he  kissed  me,  but  teasingly  and  persistently,  until 
he  smiled  and  said : 


238  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Thank  God,  Dot,  you  were  brought  up  in 
Graytown !  " 

It  seems  to  me  that  was  enough  to  satisfy  any- 
body. 


JANUARY. 

ANOTHER  year  has  begun.  For  the  first  time 
in  my  life  an  unpleasantly  solemn  feeling  over- 
whelms me  when  I  repeat  that  sentence  to  my- 
self. Last  year  was  the  most  important  of  all 
years  for  me.  In  it  I  met  Jack,  loved  him, 
and  by  marrying  him  surrendered  my  future  into 
his  hands.  Only  twelve  months  ago,  I  did  not 
know  of  Jack's  existence.  Could  any  year  con- 
tain more  enormous  changes  for  me  than  this 
one,  but  just  dead  and  reverently  buried?  Cer- 
tainly not — and  yet — all  Lame  Ann's  premoni- 
tions rolled  into  one  could  not  equal  the  dread 
I  have  of  the  near  future,  now  that  the  holidays 
are  over,  father  has  gone  back  to  Graytown,  and 
I  once  more  face  all  the  contradictions  and  catas- 
trophes of  the  lives  about  me. 

Belle  did  not  die.  Nor  has  she  changed  one 
particle,  except  corporeally.  She  says  she  lost  ten 
pounds  before  she  was  allowed  to  eat  and  drink 
again.  It  is  three  weeks  since  Blashfields'  tea, 
and  yesterday  Belle  went  off  to  a  house-party  in 
honor  of  some  one's  birthday  at  Lakewood.  The 
last  thing  I  heard  her  say  at  the  ferry  was  that 

239 


240  Dainty  Devils. 

she  would  do  all  right,  as  Annie  had  put  plenty 
of  whiskey  into  the  trunks. 

Lou  departed  over  a  week  ago  upon  her  jour- 
ney West.  She  must  have  some  exceptionally 
dear  friends  out  there,  for  her  entire  summer 
was  passed  with  them  and  now  she  has  left  with 
the  announcement  that  we  must  exist  without  her 
for  the  next  month.  Jack  seemed  rather  dis- 
turbed about  her  going,  and  asked  her  what  di- 
version she  might  be  seeking  which  she  could 
not  find  in  New  York  ?  To  this  Lou  responded, 
"  A  perfectly  new  one,  Jack,"  and  laughed 
very  immoderately.  Then  Jack  grew  a  little 
flushed  and  angry,  and  told  her  he  hoped  she 
would  at  least  leave  her  address.  "  Certainly ;  but 
you're  not  planning  to  write  to  me,  are  you  ?  " 
Jack  went  out  after  that  and  did  not  return 
until  Lou  had  gone.  I  am  certain  that  he  inten- 
tionally avoided  bidding  her  good-bye. 

Mr.  Allison  is  South — shooting  things,  I  be- 
lieve. They  say  he  is  a  most  wonderful  man  with 
guns. 

While  father  was  with  us,  much  of  my  worry 
vanished.  His  happy,  child-like  faith  and  love, 
pervading  the  rather  formal  and  stereotyped  at- 
mosphere of  the  Woodward  house,  put  suspicion 
and  unrest  to  sleep  somewhere  in  a  dark  corner, 
and  I  began  to  be  almost  forgetful  of  my  new 
dignities  and  responsibilities, 


January.  241 

Father  arrived  on  the  twenty-second.  That 
very  evening,  sitting  alone  with  Jack  and  me 
after  our  half-dozen  dinner  guests  had  departed, 
he  asked : 

"  Are  you  all  ready  for  Christmas,  Gretchen?  " 

"  Hope  so,"  Jack  answered,  making  a  face. 
"  I've  done  the  best  I  know  how,  still  it  remains 
to  be  seen  whether  Dot  will  deem  that  sufficient." 

"  It's  mean  to  libel  your  wife,"  I  said,  not 
wholly  in  jest :  for  I  am  sensitive  about  Jack's 
constant  endeavor  to  load  me  with  gifts,  as 
though  my  desire  to  possess  were  something  in- 
satiable. 

"  I  don't  mean  the  presents,"  explained  father ; 
"  I  mean,  have  you  arranged  for  a  tree  and  all 
that?" 

My  eyelids  dropped :  so  tainted  am  I  with  mat- 
ter-of-factness  already,  that  my  chief  preparation 
for  Christmas  has  been — outside  of  purchasing 
.many  expensive  and  fascinating  gifts — an  order 
to  the  florist  to  put  up  lots  of  greens.  Be  it 
remembered  that  this  was  the  first  rich  Christ- 
mas I  had  ever  known,  and  the  novelty  of  spend- 
ing money  had  proved  quite  intoxicating. 

I  suppose  I  am  rather  in  the  position  of  a 
beggar  on  horse-back,  as  Mrs.  Robertson  did  not 
hesitate  to  remark  to  Mrs.  Van  Voort,  when  I 
met  the  pair  shopping.  I  heard  the  remark,  and 
Mrs.  Van  Voorts'  giggle  and  "  Sh !  ".  New  York 

16 


242  Dainty  Devils. 

women  are,  en  masse,  beautiful  and  clever ;  they 
are  also,  en  masse,  small  and  contemptible  in  their 
treatment  of  their  own  sex. 

All  this  does  not  excuse  my  loss  of  much  of 
the  sweet  poetry  of  life  during  two  months'  so- 
journ in  Swelldom.  I  concluded,  embarrassed, 
that  I  am  father's  unworthy  daughter,  and  mean- 
while Jack  answered: 

"  Why,  I  haven't  helped  dress  a  tree  since  I 
came  home  from  Heidelberg!  It  was  great  fun. 
We  used  to  go  to  a  little  village,  where  one 
of  the  boys  belonged;  there  we  cut  out  paper 
rings  and  pasted  them  in  long  chains,  and  the 
Hausfrau  gave  us  little  cakes  and  things  to  put 
strings  into.  That  was  about  all,  except  the  can- 
dles. Oh,  we  had  plenty  of  them,  and  when  the 
short,  thickly-boughed  tree  set  upon  a  table,  was 
dressed,  we  lit  the  candles,  pushed  back  the  cur- 
tains, turned  out  the  lamp  and  sang,  Ihr  Kinder, 
Kommt  Alle!  That  was  happiness  and  peace,  fit 
indeed  for  Christmas  Eve." 

Jack  paused,  his  eyes  shining,  and  his  thoughts 
far  back  in  his  University  days — when  he  did 
not  know  me,  I  jealously  reflected.  Still,  after 
all,  he  could  not  have  interested  me  to  any  great 
extent  when  I  was  one  year  old,  so  I  need  not 
grudge  him  the  happy  reminiscences  of  Ger- 
many. Only  I  never  want  him  to  wear  that 
tender,  rapt  expression  about  any  circumstances 


January.  243 

of  his  bachelor-life  in  New  York.  As  I  watched 
him,  he  smiled  and  continued,  father  eagerly  lis- 
tening : 

"  Later  in  the  evening,  we  boys  used  to  go 
out  and  walk  all  through  the  village.  In  every 
house  were  the  same  white  curtains  freshly 
washed  for  the  Festival,  geraniums  and  monthly 
roses  on  the  window  sills,  and  placed  in  the  room 
so  every  passer-by  might  see  and  enjoy,  the 
Christmas  tree  on  its  table;  it's  home-made  or- 
naments were  beautiful  in  their  simplicity  and  ap- 
propriateness, besides  being  so  happily  eloquent 
of  the  faith  and  patience  in  the  brains  and 
hands  that  fashioned  them.  The  whole  picture 
was  glorified  by  the  tender  light  of  a  hun- 
dred candles.  Not  one  house  was  without  the 
sign  of  Christmas  Eve,  not  one  face  hinted  that 
pain  and  poverty  were  not  seldom  guests.  Do 
you  know  what  that  little  village  on  Christmas 
Eve  suggested  to  me,  Dot?  There  was  always 
snow,  and  the  roofs  are  peaked,  and  some- 
how the  entire  scene  was  more  like  a  Christmas- 
card  than  real  existence.  I  believe  I  have  seen 
a  card  with  the  whole  composition — little  Ger- 
man houses,  with  snow  on  the  peaked  roofs,  prob- 
ably a  moon  in  a  corner  of  the  sky,  and  in  the 
foreground  a  window  from  which  the  curtains 
are  drawn  back,  revealing  a  small  lighted  Christ- 
mas-tree placed  upon  a  table." 


244  Dainty  Devils. 

Father  laughed  softly. 

"  So  I  have  pictured  it,"  he  said,  "  and  Gret- 
chen  and  I  have  never  been  without  our  tree." 

"  Really  ?    In  Massachusetts  ?  " 

"  Always ;  even  my  father  in  his  first  year  of 
exile,  when  New  England  frowned  upon  such 
encouragement  of  Popish  observances."  Here 
father  slyly  smiled.  "  The  Puritans  are  not  so 
Puritanical  as  they  once  were.  I've  heard  my 
father  tell  of  how  when  he  first  arranged  a  tree, 
some  fifty  years  ago,  he  almost  lost  the  friend- 
ship of  the  minister.  As  he  subsequently  married 
the  minister's  sister,  you  may  believe  that  he 
nevertheless  succeeded  in  proving  his  Protestant- 
ism. You  see,  the  worst  part  was  the  wax  angel 
that  he  put  on  the  top.  How  about  that  wax 
angel,  Gretchen?  Did  you  bring  it  in  one  of 
your  wedding-boxes  ?  " 

"  No,"  shamefacedly,  "  I  forgot  all  about  it, 
father.  And  I  haven't  a  tree  either."  I  felt 
positively  depraved. 

"Don't  pout  so,  little  one,"  said  Jack,  patting 
my  cheek.  "  We'll  order  a  tree  in  the  morning, 
and  we'll  get  Marion  LaGrange  to  help  fix  it. 
We  won't  dress  it  till  late  Christmas  Eve,  and 
we'll  get  up  early  Christmas  morning  and  come 
downstairs  in  the  cold,  and  light  our  tree  and 
have  our  presents,  as  I've  heard  Addie  Layton 
say  her  children  make  her  do." 


January.  245 

"  When  the  hearts  are  warm,  the  room  tem- 
perature doesn't  matter,"  father  said,  his  cameo 
profile  softening  beautifully.  "  Gretchen  and  I  al- 
ways had  our  tree  Christmas  morning  in  Gray- 
town,  didn't  we  ?  And  it  was  cold,  oh,  very,  very 
cold." 

"  Yes,  indeed  it  was,"  I  cried,  going  over  to 
kiss  him.  "  I  think  nothing  short  of  the  wax 
angel  could  have  fetched  me  out  of  my  warm 
bed  at  five  o'clock,  to  go  down  into  the  freez- 
ing study." 

"  Yet  the  tree  would  never  have  kept  fresh 
so  long,  had  the  house  been  over-heated  like  this 
one,"  said  father,  simply. 

Our  warm  house  is  a  penance  to  him,  which 
I  share  to  some  extent  myself.  Talk  of  a  hot- 
house flower  flung  out  into  the  cold  street !  It  is 
no  less  trying  to  be  a  field-daisy  transplanted 
to  a  steam-heated  conservatory.  Did  a  daisy 
reared  in  a  hot-house  ever  in  this  world  keep  its 
innocent  assurance  and  crisp  hardiness?  No: 
it  is  always  a  limp,  shrinking,  uncertain  blossom, 
minus  half  its  allotted  petals. 

"  I'll  order  a  tree  in  the  morning,"  said  Jack, 
with  an  air  of  finality.  "  And  we'll  try  for  a 
German  country  Christmas." 

Father  looked  distinctly  disappointed. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  asked  laughing,  for  I  fancied. 
I  knew, 


246  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Would  it  not  be  better — couldn't  you  and  I 
go  pick  out  one,  Gretchen  ?  "  he  asked,  almost 
bashfully. 

"  Of  course,"  I  said,  heartily.  "  Pretend 
there's  no  telephone,  Jack,  and  father  and  I  will 
go  and  buy  our  own  tree." 

"  And  leave  me  out  ?  "  cried  Jack,  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  no !  I  thought  you  wouldn't  care  to 
come." 

"  You  don't  know  me  yet,  Dot." 

So  in  the  morning  we  went  out,  afoot,  to  look 
for  a  tree.  Father's  natural  way  of  doing  things 
with  interest  and  enthusiasm  had  happily  in- 
fected Jack  and  me,  and  we  had  the  jolliest  kind 
of  a  time,  choosing  and  considering,  condemn- 
ing and  bargaining.  The  florists'  shops  were 
crowded,  most  people  coming  in  excited  and 
hurried,  purchasing  the  first  thing  shown  them, 
and  leaving  without  further  words  than  giv- 
ing name  and  address.  I  recognized  three-quar- 
ters of  these  persons  as  butlers  and  house-keep- 
ers. Of  course  New  York  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen were  much  too  occupied  to  personally  buy 
Christmas-wreaths.  What  irony  that  the  richer 
one  is,  the  more  servants  one  has,  the  less  time 
one  possesses !  A  woman  who  goes  out  working 
by  the  day,  has  the  evening  to  use  as  she  pleases, 
and  Sundays  besides.  I  am  sure  that  in  the  less 
extravagant  neighborhoods,  these  women  and 


January.  247 

their  husbands  go  out  to  buy  a  Christmas-tree  or 
wreath,  and  never  dream  but  they  have  lots  of 
time  to  do  it.  The  rich  women  I  know,  deputize 
every  possible  action  to  others.  I  have  heard 
Belle  St.  John  say  that  she  wished  to  Heaven 
some  other  woman  could  be  fitted  for  her,  as  it 
took  too  much  time  to  get  gowns !  And  Belle 
St.  John  is  neither  musical,  literary  nor  philan- 
thropic. What  she  does  to  use  up  her  days,  I  do 
not  know. 

As  we  left  the  florist's,  our  tree  tagged  and 
bound,  a  little  flurry  of  snow  was  falling.  The 
air  smelt  refreshingly  clean. 

"  You  look  well,  daughter,"  said  father ; 
"  much  fresher  than  yesterday.  The  snow-air 
has  done  you  good." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack,  pulling  up  my  fur  collar ; 
"  I  will  call  a  cab.  This  snow  is  unexpected." 

"  No,  no,  no !  "  I  answered,  quite  impatiently 
"  I  want  to  think  we're  back  in  Graytown,  Jack ; 
and  there  we  never  had  money  for  cabs.  Oh,  I 
love  the  snow !  " 

A  tall  girl  hurrying  along  past  us,  her  head 
down  against  the  scurrying  snow-flakes,  paused 
suddenly  and  turned  back. 

"  Dot !  "  she  called,  in  her  sweet,  sincere  voice. 
"  I  knew  your  voice !  "  It  was  Marion,  and  I  was 
delighted. 

"  This  is  my  father,  dear,"  I  said,  breathlessly, 


248  Dainty  Devils. 

"  and  I  want  you  to  come  with  us  and  stop  all 
day,  and  to-morrow,  too.  We're  going  to  have 
a  tree !  " 

"  My  dear  Dot,"  expostulated  Jack,  "  don't 
talk  so  fast.  Can  you  come  with  us,  Marion? 
We've  been  buying  a  tree,  and  are  now  upon  our 
way  home." 

Marion  had  given  her  hand  to  father  almost 
deferentially. 

"  Thank  you,  I  can't  to-day :  for  I'm  going  to 
dress  a  tree  for  the  Settlement  children,"  she 
said.  "  To-morrow,  most  delightedly." 

The  wind  was  beginning  to  blow  in  gusts,  and 
to  work  the  snow  down  into  one's  neck.  Jack, 
who  occasionally  forgets  that  I  am  a  hardy 
country  girl,  glanced  anxiously  in  my  direction. 

"  Auf  Wiedersehen!"  said  he.  "  It's  too  windy 
to  stand  here."  And  we  parted,  unwillingly. 

"  She's  so  good !  "  I  said,  to  father.  "  Works 
hours  every  day  for  the  poor  and  sick,  and 
teaches  horribly  dirty  little  children." 

"  And  she  is  how  old  ?  "  he  asked,  thought- 
fully. 

"  Twenty.  And  so  clever.  Wait  till  you  hear 
her  play!  Oh,  she  works  too  hard,  with  her 
practicing  and  all." 

"  Twenty,  and  works  at  the  Missions !  My 
child,  my  father  used  to  say  that  when  a  young 
girl  takes  enthusiastically  to  works  of  charity, 


January.  249 

she  has  had  an  unhappy  affair  of  the  heart.  She 
dashes  into  the  effort  to  assist  others  because  in 
that  occupation  she  finds  a  sentimental  balm  for 
her  mental  suffering.  Her  work  is  done  under 
a  peculiar  excitement,  and  often  ends  in  a  piti- 
ful despair." 

I  could  say  nothing.    Jack  was  laughing. 

"  Marion  has  had  at  least  two  offers/'  he  said. 

If  men,  even  the  brightest,  are  not  dull !  What 
good  would  fifty  offers  be,  when  the  only  desired 
one  remained  wanting? 

We  were  at  the  foot  of  the  house-steps.  Father 
touched  Jack's  arm  to  give  emphasis  to  his 
words. 

"  The  girl  is  beautiful,"  he  said,  "  and  at  her 
age  should  be  happy.  Can  you  look  at  her  eyes 
and  mouth  without  seeing  that  she  is  not  ?  " 

"  Now,  really,  papa,"  said  Jack,  provokingly, 
"  there's  only  one  pair  of  eyes  in  the  world  which 
interests  me." 

It  was  in  very  good  spirits  that  we  entered 
the  house,  and  even  father  was  grateful  for  its 
cozy  warmth. 

;fc  %  jfc  >(:  sjc  5|c  j|e 

Marion  came  early  next  day,  her  mother  join- 
ing us  later,  at  luncheon.  The  snow  having 
amounted  to  more  than  we  anticipated,  it  was 
possible  to  go  sleighing  in  the  afternoon.  I  have 
discovered  that  sleigh-rides  in  New  York  are 


250  Dainty  Devils. 

rare  events.  We  found  the  Park  packed  to  a 
degree  positively  dangerous,  and  I  wondered  once 
or  twice  what  would  become  of  us  if  only 
one  horse  in  the  mass  of  vehicles  and  animals 
should  begin  to  cut  up  capers.  Once  out  of 
the  Park,  I  enjoyed  myself  better.  It  was  inter- 
esting to  note  the  infinite  variety  of  sleighs 
pushed  into  service.  From  the  most  extrava- 
gantly appointed,  to  old  painted  boxes  on  run- 
ners, they  flew  by  with  equal  gayety.  And  as 
for  the  occupants,  for  once  New  Yorkers  seemed 
a  jolly  lot  who  did  not  keep  themselves  tightly 
screwed  up  in  a  kind  of  dignity,  which  is  so 
unstable  that  those  who  indulge  in  it  know  the 
slightest  relaxation  of  pressure  would  cause  it 
to  unwind  and  collapse.  There  were  unaffected 
laughter,  calls  from  one  hooded,  veiled  and  un- 
recognizable head  to  another  as  perfectly  dis- 
guised. There  was  some  singing  of  snatches  of 
students'  songs,  and  among  the  less  elegant 
equipages,  the  interchange  of  good-natured  teas- 
ing. All  these  were  due  to  the  magic  of  a  rare 
sport.  It  seems  odd  to  see  people  so  excessively 
glad  of  a  sleigh-ride.  How  often  in  Graytown 
have  we  unspeakably  longed  for  the  snow  to  de- 
part, although  between  snow  and  good  roads,  lay 
the  inevitable  horror  of  thaw ! 

In  the  evening  we  dressed  the  tree.     Father 
had  gone  out  alone,  and  found  a  wax  angel  with 


January.  251 

a  blue  silk  skirt  exactly  like  ours  at  home:  so 
nothing  was  wanting.  Mrs.  LaGrange  helped 
energetically,  and  Marion  was  demurely  happy. 
As  for  father,  he  climbed  the  ladder  and  draped 
and  hung,  as  in  the  study  at  Graytown,  happy  as 
a  child,  and  sweetly  in  earnest  about  everything. 
It  was  with  a  prayer  of  gratitude  I  reflected, 
that  hardly  one  of  our  "  set/'  outside  of  Mrs. 
LaGrange  and  Marion,  was  in  town,  and  there 
was  no  likelihood  of  a  disturbing  note  entering 
into  the  present  harmony.  We  decided  that  both 
Marion  and  her  mother  should  remain  over- 
night :  for  all  wanted  to  save  the  lighting  of  the 
Christmas-tree  till  morning.  Father  was  to  offi- 
ciate at  the  distribution  of  the  presents,  and  we 
agreed  that  the  servants  should  come  also  to 
receive  their  gifts  from  beneath  the  tree. 

"  At  Christmas,  if  at  any  time,  we  ought  to 
remember  that  we  are  all  one  family,"  father  said. 

Would  anyone  believe  it?  When  we  came 
noisily  downstairs  in  the  morning,  to  meet  the 
sight  of  the  sombre  evergreen  transfigured  into 
a  blazing  glory  by  its  two  hundred  burning  can- 
dles, our  hearts  so  full  of  joy  and  good-will  that 
we  should  have  been  temporarily  glad  to  hail  a 
red  Indian  as  a  near  relative,  the  only  servants 
who  had  deigned  to  appear  were  Blackwell  and 
Perkins!  Not  one  of  the  others  was  up  yet. 
Evidently  our  well-meant  invitation  had  been 


252  Dainty  Devils. 

scorned.  The  servants  had  no  ambition  what- 
ever to  belong  to  our  "  family."  Quite  disgusted 
and  disillusionised,  I  told  Blackwell  she  could 
distribute  the  gifts  to  the  below-stairs  portion  of 
the  household  when  and  where  she  liked — They 
were  to  be  removed  at  once  from  the  library 
where  we  were  gathered. 

This  incident  forgotten,  that  hour  by  the  tree 
was  very  sweet.  Jack  had  been  most  lavish,  and 
every  one  of  us  was  laden  with  remembrances. 
Father  beamed  perpetually,  spoke  little  and  bore 
in  his  face  more  of  the  spirit  of  the  Little  Child 
who  was  born  in  a  manger,  than  any  of  us — even 
intense,  visionary,  enthusiastic  Marion. 

Breakfast  was  late,  and  most  indifferently 
cooked.  Our  elevated  thoughts  came  down 
hard  when  they  sank  into  bitter,  heavy  biscuits, 
and  were  drowned  altogether  in  the  wretched 
reality  of  the  worst  coffee  I  ever  drank  anywhere. 
Six  of  the  servants,  including  the  cook,  went 
to  a  ball  last  night,  and  returned  at  five  this 
morning.  Small  wonder  they  were  not  at  the 
Christmas-tree !  Never  in  her  life  did  Lame  Ann 
serve  such  a  meal.  Blackwell  shall  hear  my 
opinion..  I  am  so  glad  I  am  not  afraid  of  her 
any  more. 

Later  there  was  Church,  and  after  luncheon, 
music.  To  be  perfectly  frank,  the  music  did  me 
more  good  than  the  service  at  St.  Clara's.  I 


January.  253 

mean  our  own  music — Marion's  and  mine.  At 
church  there  was  much  ornate  singing,  apropos 
of  nothing  whatever,  all  words  lost  in  a  confusion 
of  trills  and  tra-las,  and  a  sermon  that  was  a 
conglomeration  of  Socialism,  poetical  quotations 
and  an  egotistic  resume  of  the  good  works  of 
St.  Clara's  parish  during  the  past  year.  Of 
religion  there  was  about  as  much  in  that  dis- 
course as — well,  I  almost  wrote  "  in  Paddy's  pig," 
but  that  is  too  seemingly  disrespectful,  so  I  will 
say,  in  Addie  Layton,  who  sat  directly  in  front  of 
me  and  spent  every  minute  admiring  her  brand 
new  Russian  sable  muff.  It  is  as  big  as  a  good 
sized  pig,  by-the-way,  and  represents  an  invest- 
ment large  enough  to  keep  all  the  hands  of  the 
Mission  children  warm  through  the  winter. 

At  four  o'clock  Marion  rose  from  the  piano, 
where  she  had  been  playing  accompaniments  and 
singing  while  I  did  an  Obligate  on  the  violin, 
exclaiming  that  she  would  be  late  at  the  Set- 
tlement. I  had  been  mentally  calling  her  St. 
Cecelia  for  the  last  hour,  yet  her  ecstatic  expres- 
sion impressed  me  unpleasantly  as  she  kissed  me 
in  the  hall.  It  seems  to  me  that  a  great  many 
of  the  Saints  must  have  worried  their  friends. 
"  Dear  me,  Marion,  must  you  go  ?  " 
"  Yes,  Dot.  I  must  try  to  give  some  of  this 
sense  of  peace  to  others.  Wouldn't  it  be  selfish 
not  to  go  ?  " 


254  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Ye-es ;  I  suppose  so."  The  thought  required 
digestion. 

I  slipped  my  arm  about  her  waist.  Even  with 
her  heavy  jacket,  her  waist  is  unhealthily  slim. 

"  Marion,  you're  too  ethereal — in  every  way. 
You  always  give  me  the  idea  that  you  didn't 
get  enough  mush-and-milk  when  you  were  little." 

She  laughed  nervously. 

"  I  didn't  get  any,  Dot.  I  hated  it.  And  still 
I'm  very  strong.  Don't  you  see  how  much  I  can 
stand?" 

Marion's  dark  eyes  were  dilated,  her  cheeks 
bright  red.  Father  was  right ;  she  works  under 
the  stimulus  of  unnatural  excitement.  I  sighed 
as  I  told  her  to  hurry  back.  If  Percy  Earle  loved 
her,  how  different  Marion  would  be!  I  do  not 
believe  marriage  would  leave  her  much  time  for 
Settlements,  and  that  Settlement  is  killing  her  by 
inches,  because  she  is  unreasonable  in  the  amount 
of  time  and  strength  she  gives  to  it.  With  her 
it  is  not  the  quiet  acceptance  of  a  beautiful  voca- 
tion— it  is  the  wild  hurry  of  work  to  keep  from 
thinking  of  another  vocation  for  which  she 
yearns.  Oh,  Percy  Earle,  I  wish  I  did  not  like 
you!  You  ought  to  be  thrashed  for  breaking 
this  girl's  heart.  And  Lou — pretty,  dainty, 
wicked  Lou — if  only  she  would  stay  West  for- 
ever! 


January.  255 

Jack  came  into  the  hall  to  see  whether  I  were 
lost. 

Marion  was  late  for  dinner.  Her  flush  had 
died  out,  and  dark  hollows  were  under  her  eyes ; 
the  ecstasy  of  a  few  hours  back  was  replaced  by 
weariness  and  suffering.  I  wondered  crossly 
whether  she  had  given  so  much  peace  to  the  rag- 
amuffins that  her  supply  had  been  exhausted. 
She  ate  scarcely  anything,  and  talked  very  little. 
Jack  did  not  seem  to  notice,  but  father  and  Mrs. 
LaGrange  closely  watched  her.  I  almost  choked 
once  at  the  ghastly  thought  that  Marion  might  be 
doomed  to  consumption.  In  fiction,  at  least,  so 
many  good  people  are. 

"  Merry  Christmas !  "  called  Jack,  suddenly. 
"What  ails  you,  Dot?" 

"  One  can't  be  merry  all  the  time,"  I  an- 
swered, not  very  sweetly ;  for  I  was  provoked  at 
the  start  I  had  given. 

"  No — only  happy,"  said  Marion,  dreamily. 
"  There's  a  difference.  The  angels  sang  '  Peace 
and  Good  Will,'  you  know:  they  didn't  mention 
gaiety." 

"  Being  an  angel  yourself,  I  fancy  you  were 
there?" 

I  glanced  quickly  at  Marion,  for  I  thought 
Jack's  words  might  be  interpreted  either  as  a 
laughable  compliment  or  a  cruel  sarcasm.  Mar- 
ion's  good  sense  saved  the  hour. 


256  Dainty  Devils. 

"  No — Perhaps  I  was  nearer  those  of  my 
color."  She  touched  her  coal-black  pompadour, 
and  father  led  the  laugh.  "  Really  I  don't  re- 
member." 

Jack  smoked  in  silence  a  long  time  when  we 
were  alone  that  evening. 

"  Dot,"  he  began,  suddenly,  "  can  you  use  any 
influence  to  keep  Marion  from  killing  herself 
with  her  Missions?  " 

"  Why?  "  The  question  was  meant  to  be  eva- 
sive. 

"  Oh !    Her  mother  is  anxious." 

"Did  she  tell  you  so?" 

"  Yes.  I  had  never  noticed  how  thin  the  girl 
was." 

"  Well — It's  my  shrewd  guess  that  I  should 
have  to  see  that  Marion  became  engaged." 

"  To  be  married  ?  Nonsense.  She  will  enter 
a  Sisterhood." 

"  All  things  are  possible.  However,  Marion 
won't  be  a  Sister."  Jack's  idea  in  this  matter 
always  angers  me. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  Is  she  in  love  with  any- 
one, Dot?" 

"  Oh,  certainly  not,"  sarcastically.  "  Marion 
will  probably  go  into  a  nunnery.  Haven't  you 
said  so  ?  " 

"  What  makes  you   so  cross  and   so  rude  ? 


January.  257 

Dot,  if  you  know  anything,  I  wish  you  would  tell 
me." 

"  I  know  nothing.  Father  surmises  things, 
and — Jack,  father  is  cleverer  than  most  men." 

"  No  doubt,"  gravely. 

This  meek  acceptance  of  my  little  dig  made  me 
ashamed. 

"If  you  please,  Jack,  I  would  rather  speak  of 
something  else.  Marion  has  never  given  me  her 
confidence,  and  whatever  I  think  may  be  entirely 
incorrect." 

"  However,  dear,"  said  Jack,  earnestly,  "  you 
might  get  Marion  to  eat  more,  you  know,  and 
see  a  doctor  and  all  that." 

I  burst  out  laughing.  Dear  old  Jack,  what  a 
dull  darling  you  are  in  matters  of  sentiment ! 
Fancy  roast  beef  a  cure  for  love-sickness !  And 
a  doctor's  serious  professional  visits  in  lieu  of  the 
stimulus  of  Percy  Earle's  society ! 

"  Please  excuse  me  for  being  frivolous,  Jack. 
I'll  do  my  best  for  Marion." 

Not  a  suspicion,  not  a  dawning  of  the  truth 
upon  Jack  yet — Jack  who  sees  these  people  almost 
every  day ! 

My  days  were  one  long  festa  while  father 
remained.  Everybody  I  ever  met  called  upon 
me,  whether  I  owed  her  a  visit  or  not,  and  paid 
homage,  very  gracefully,  very  deferentially,  at 
the  shrine  of  a  genuine  "  Count."  The  title  flew 

17 


258  Dainty  Devils. 

through  the  atmosphere  at  the  rate  of  a  dozen 
times  a  minute  and  so  unctuously  that  frequently 
I  almost  gasped  at  the  change  in  the  manners  of 
my  formerly  cool  and  critical  acquaintances. 
Nor  were  they  content  at  overwhelming  father 
with  adulation:  the  Count's  daughter  came  in 
for  a  rush  of  compliments  and  sweetness  which 
would  have  been  very  lovely  and  agreeable,  had 
I  not  known  that  the  assumption  of  this  attitude 
was  too  sudden  to  be  trusted,  and  too  extreme 
to  last. 

At  times  I  tried  to  swallow  such  remarks  as 
"  Your  beautiful  daughter,  Count,  has  won  all 
our  hearts,"  and  "  Such  talent  seldom  goes  with 
so  much  beauty,  Count  von  Waldeck,  now  really, 
you  know."  I  found,  however,  I  was  not  fool 
enough. 

A  frightful-looking  epistle  from  Lame  Ann 
unexpectedly  took  father  away  from  us.  With 
the  exercise  of  superhuman  patience  towards  the 
vagaries  of  Ann's  brain  and  Ann's  pen,  we 
gleaned  that  Uncle  Dalton  had  been  thrown  from 
his  horse  and  seriously  injured.  That  news 
caused  father  to  pack  at  once  and  rush  for  the 
next  train  to  Graytown.  I  could  have  shaken 
Ann  when  the  telegram  came  from  father  say- 
ing, "  Ann  exaggerated.  Uncle  doing  well. 
Very  slightly  hurt." 

Not  but  what  I  am  grateful  that  Nunk  is  all 


January.  259 

right.  What  a  stalwart  "  Man  of  God  "  he  is, 
when  I  compare  him  with  the  Curate  of  St. 
Clara's  !  To  be  appreciated,  one  must  be  brought 
into  proper  contrast,  and  Uncle  Dalton  and  that 
Curate  form  the  most  ideal  light  and  shade  a 
master  ever  drew. 


Marion  came  into  my  room  and  dropped  upon 
the  couch. 

I  put  down  the  book  I  was  reading,  and  stared 
speechlessly,  mentally  repeating  the  last  sentence 
I  had  read,  with  a  vague  intention  of  not  losing 
my  place  through  this  unexpected  visitant. 

"  Do  you  mean,  '  When  did  I  come  ?  '  "  she 
asked,  smiling  in  a  sick  sort  of  fashion  as  she 
unfastened  her  jacket. 

"  I  didn't  hear  the  bell,"  I  said,  coming  to 
myself  and  jumping  up  to  kiss  her.  "  Are  you 
deadly  tired  or  what,  Marion  dear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  tired,  Dot.    That's  all." 

I  surveyed  her  severely  plain  serge  frock  and 
the  blue  felt  sailor.  They  always  bear  their 
own  message. 

"  Your  costume  suggests  the  Salvation  Army, 
somewhat,"  I  said,  very  crossly.  "  I  judge  you 
come  from  the  Mission." 

"  Yes.    What  makes  you  so  acrid  in  voice  and 


260  Dainty  Devils. 

manner?  Would  you  rather  I'd  been  playing 
bridge?" 

I  caught  her  by  the  shoulders,  and  holding  her 
back  against  the  cushions,  gazed  sharply  at  her. 

"  I  know  something  about  those  who  play 
bridge,  and  so  do  you ;  and  never  before  have 
we  broached  the  subject,  you  and  I  alone  to- 
gether. What  makes  you  speak  of  bridge,  now? 
You  know  very  well  that  I'm  positive  you  would 
never  take  a  hand." 

The  girl  laughed  uneasily,  and  her  glance  fell. 

"  Let  me  up,  Dot  and  come  play  an  accompani- 
ment for  me ;  won't  you  ?  "  Music  comes  next 
to  praying  with  Marion. 

"  No ;  I  don't  feel  like  playing,  and  neither  do 
you,  Marion.  Tell  me  what  ails  you,  or  go 
home." 

I  let  go  Marion's  shoulders  and  sat  down  be- 
side her.  She  turned  her  eyes,  full  of  doubt  and 
distress,  upon  me. 

"  Dot  you  know  mother  had  Neddie  Lawrence 
sent  to  New  York  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  told  me — He  wanted  a  start." 

"  Well — "  she  paused,  flushed,  threw  her  head 
up  high  and  continued  in  a  strangely  challeng- 
ing voice :  "  He  got  started  on  an  unfortunate 
road." 

"  Oh— I  see— bridge !  " 

"  You're  laconic — but  the  one  word  will  cover 


January.  261 

considerable  of  his  sins,  as  they're  all  accessory 
to  bridge  and  poker."  Marion  pressed  her  lips 
together,  and  her  sweet  face  took  on  an  unfamil- 
iar look  of  severity.  "  I  think,  Dot,  that  several 
women  we  know  ought  to  be  electrocuted,"  she 
said,  solemnly ;  "  I  think  I  could  turn  on  the  cur- 
rent myself." 

A  perverse  resentment,  because  Lou  and  Belle 
were  brought  up  like  Jack's  sisters,  forced  me 
to  respond  to  this  ferocious  remark  of  my  gentle 
Marion. 

"  That's  eminently  Christian !  " 

"  I  admit  it's  wicked,"  she  returned  gravely, 
and  then  sighed  with  her  whole  heart.  "  Poor 
unfortunate  Neddie !  " 

"  You  don't  mean — Marion,  is  he  in  trouble  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Dot,  and  has  been  for  some  time.  He 
asked  me  for  money  once,  and  I  gave  it  for 
mother's  sake,  as  he  admitted  he  was  in  the  kind 
of  debt  he  wouldn't  care  to  explain  to  mother. 
He  promised  not  to  become  involved  again." 

Marion  rose  and  began  to  walk  about  the 
room.  Her  actions  were  so  unlike  her  habitual 
queenly  calm  that  I  wondered  what  would  come 
next. 

"  He's  become  involved  again  and  owes  a  great 
many  people." 

I  felt  a  hot  blush  spreading  over  my  face. 
Marion  had  not  been  at  Robertsons'  that  Sunday 


262  Dainty  Devils. 

night,  nor  had  she  heard  and  seen  Percy  when 
he  gave  Lawrence  a  hundred  dollars.  I  had  also 
successfully  resisted  the  temptation  to  tell  her  the 
story.  As  I  sat  silent  and  confused,  Marion, 
cleverer  than  most,  was  not  oblivious  of  my  em- 
barrassment. 

"  You  know  something,  Dot,"  she  cried,  dart- 
ing over  to  me. 

"  Hardly  anything,  Marion — Oh,  really ! — I — 
I  know  Neddie  Lawrence  plays  cards  for  money, 
certainly." 

"  And  he — "  struggling  bravely  with  gathering 
tears,  "  drinks  to  excess — A  boy  who  never  tasted 
wine  nor  wished  to  taste  it,  while  he  was  at 
home!" 

She  stopped,  biting  her  lips,  and  turning  away 
from  me.  I  waited  in  mute  sympathy,  and 
wished  that  I  had  Mrs.  Robertson  there  so  that 
I  might  pinch  her. 

"  Dot,  I  was  talking  to  the  women  at  the  Mis- 
sion to-day  about  the  evils  of  intoxication, 
when  there  was  a  sudden  commotion  at  the  door. 
Greatly  annoyed,  I  turned  from  the  class  and  saw 
a  policeman  trying  to  keep  a  young  man  from 
entering." 

The  look  in  her  eyes  made  me  gasp: 

"It  wasn't  Neddie?" 

"  It  was — it  was — dreadfully  intoxicated  and 


January.  263 

saying  he  must  see  his  cousin,  Miss  LaGrange. 
Oh,  Dot !  " 

Proud  Marion !    I  groaned  in  horror. 

"  The  women  all  stood  up,  staring  and  laugh- 
ing, and  shouted,  '  Oh,  get  out !  Don't  yer  be 
afraid  of  the  loafer,  Miss  LaGrange ! '  Then 
Neddie  swore  and  struck  at  the  officer,  who  took 
his  club—" 

At  this  point  Marion  broke  down  completely 
and  sobbed. 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ?  "  I  asked  faintly,  lay- 
ing my  cheek  against  the  heaving  shoulder. 
"  You  poor  darling,  Marion !  " 

"  I  hardly  know,  Dot.  Of  course  the  officer 
is  well  acquainted  with  all  those  who  work  at 
the  Mission,  and  I  told  him  to  get  the  young 
man  outside  and  wait  for  me.  There  was  a 
scuffle ;  the  women  enjoyed  the  scene  immensely. 
I  dismissed  them  as  soon  as  Neddie  and  the  offi- 
cer no  longer  blocked  the  way." 

"  What  on  earth  did  you  tell  the  policeman?  " 
I  asked,  the  disgrace  of  the  whole  affair  upper- 
most in  my  mind. 

Marion  straightened  up  and  dried  her  eyes. 

"  The  truth,"  said  she,  with  dignity.  "  As  soon 
as  I  came  out  he  said,  holding  Neddie  by  the 
collar,  '  You'll  come  enter  a  complaint,  Miss, 
for  his  disturbin'  o'  the  peace  ? ' — 'No,'  I  an- 
swered. '  Neddie,  come  into  the  Mission-room 


264  Dainty  Devils. 

with  me.'  The  policeman  seemed  electrified. 
Neddie  looked  like  a  whipped  dog.  '  He  is  a 
relative  of  mine,'  I  told  the  astonished  Irishman. 
'  A  boy  from  the  country — I'll  look  out  for  him.'  " 

Marion's  voice  died  away;  emotion  had  ex- 
hausted her. 

"  Oh,  Marion,  you  are  wonderfully  good !  .  I 
would  have  sent  him  to  the  station-house." 

Marion's  brown  orbs  burned  me  with  reproof. 

"  No — you  would  not,"  said  she,  decidedly ; 
"  cowardice  would  not  make  a  deplorable  matter 
better.  The  officer  understood  it.  He  said,  '  God 
bless  you,  Miss,  you're  a  good  one,'  and  walked 
off  calling  roughly  to  the  Mission  women  to  go 
home." 

Marion  is  ever  beyond  me.  Generally  I  hum- 
bly admire  her  superiority.  This  time  some  in- 
flection of  her  voice  when  she  said  the 
"  officer "  understood,  hurt  me  and  made  me 
angry.  I  rocked  very  fast;  my  book  slid  to  the 
floor,  striking  the  wood  part  with  a  thud.  Mar- 
ion politely  picked  up  the  volume  and  laid  it 
upon  my  knee.  I  did  not  thank  her,  and  she 
wonderingly  leaned  over  and  looked  interroga- 
tively into  my  eyes. 

"  Are  you  angry,  Dot  ?  Why,  what  did  I 
say?" 

"  Nothing.  You  seemed  somehow  to  be  preach- 


January.  265 

ing.  Never  mind !  What  did  you  do  with  Ned- 
die?" 

"  Not  much,"  dejectedly.  "  He  came  for 
money,  of  course.  I  had  only  a  couple  of  dollars 
with  me,  and  told  him  so.  Then  he  said  he  was 
afraid  of  mother,  and  that  he  must  get  the  money 
by  some  means.  Poor  mother!  She  thought 
that  Neddie  might  be  like  her  own  son ! " 

A  swift  thought  brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes. 
What  must  it  be  to  have  a  mother!  I  had  not 
known  mine.  Lame  Ann  was  the  substitute 
I  had  loved  and  obeyed.  How  might  I  have 
worshipped  that  Margaret  Dare  of  whom  uncle 
and  father  spoke  at  long  intervals  with  few  and 
reverent  words !  Some  new  sympathy,  some 
intangible  influence  of  my  dead  mother,  softened 
my  heart  into  a  burst  of  emotion,  and  I  found 
myself  crying  hard  before  I  quite  knew  what  for. 
Very  remorsefully  indeed,  I  clung  to  Marion's 
hand. 

"  Oh,  Marion !  I'm  sorry  I  haven't  been  nicer 
while  you  told  me  these  things.  I  know  my  life 
is  dreadfully  selfish,  and  I'm  not  fit  to  tie  your 
shoe—" 

"  For  goodness  sake,  Dot,  quit !  You're  the 
best  child  that  ever  lived,  and  you've  had  an 
awful  winter,  getting  used  to  the  wretched  peo- 
ple in  your  set.  Don't  you  suppose  I've  seen 
and  heard  ?  Don't  I  know  you'll  do  great  things 


266  Dainty  Devils. 

when  you're  broken  in,  as  it  were,  and  a  little 
older  and  stronger?  Haven't  I  seen  your  trials 
with  the  meanness  and  jealousy  of  the  women 
who  meant  Jack  to  marry  their  sisters  or  daugh- 
ters or  cousins?  You  poor  little  thing!  I'll 
wager  you're  ten  pounds  lighter  than  when  you 
entered  this  house  as  its  mistress." 

My  sobs  grew  bitter  indeed  under  the  encour- 
agement of  these  words  of  Marion.  Curious 
that  we  never  realize  how  much  we  are  suffer- 
ing till  some  one  puts  our  miseries  into  words ! 
There  are  people  who  have  the  inherent  faculty 
of  sitting  down — out  of  themselves,  if  you  will 
— and  contemplating  and  commiserating  their 
own  woes.  Not  being  gifted  in  that  way,  it  took 
Marion  to  bring  home  to  me  the  full  sense  of 
my  social  martyrdom.  So  I  wept  heartily. 

"  Mother  and  I  often  speak  of  you,  Dot,  and 
of  how  well  you  have  stood  your  initiation."  Mar- 
ion's tone  was  delightfully  sympathetic,  and  her 
gentle  hands  were  softly  stroking  my  hair. 

I  dried  my  eyes.  Marion's  words  were  detach- 
ing themselves  into  groups.  One  sentence  espe- 
cially reiterated  itself  persistently  in  my  mind : 
"  Women  who  meant  Jack  to  marry  their  sisters 
or  daughters  or  cousins."  Here  was  the  cause 
of  much  of  the  snubbing  and  sarcasm :  I  had 
taken  the  prize  from  them.  Jack  was  a  "  match  " 
of  which  any  woman  might  be  proud.  I  sighed 


January.  267 

understandingly,  and  a  great  satisfaction  flooded 
my  heart.  Was  not  Jack  worth  the  envy  and 
spite  of  all  the  world,  let  alone  a  few  women  who 
begrudged  him  and  his  wealth  to  me  ? 

In  my  selfish  digression,  Marion  and  her 
mother  and  Neddie  Lawrence  were  for  a  moment 
forgotten.  Marion's  rising  and  adjusting  her 
hat — it  was  a  solidified  equation  of  self-denial, 
and  detracted  somewhat  even  from  Marion's 
beauty,  which  is  of  the  kind  that  has  no  need  of 
frills — brought  me  back  to  her  distress. 

"  Marion,  if  I  could  only  do  something ! 
Where  is  Neddie  now?  Are  you  sure  he  will 
not  go  to  your  mother  ?" 

"  I  lectured  him  a  little — he  was  maudlin  and 
disgusting,"  Marion  added,  her  tone  showing 
that  her  superfine  conscience  condemned  her  for 
using  the  word.  "  All  I  could  accomplish  was 
the  solemn  promise  to  go  straight  to  his  room. 
Even  then  I  could  not  trust  him :  so  I  walked 
uptown  with  him  till  I  could  get  a  cab  and  then 
I  took  him  home." 

Fancy  stately  Marion  walking  the  streets  with 
that  intoxicated  boy !  My  heart  gave  a  most  in- 
dignant throb  at  the  thought.  Remembering  the 
"  officer  "  who  "  understood,"  I  merely  asked : 

"  Who  will  give  him  the  money  ?" 

Marion  looked  away,  out  of  the  window.  In 
a  very  low  tone,  she  answered, 


268  Dainty  Devils. 

"  I  had  the  amount  in  my  desk,  and  I  sent  it 
by  a  messenger-boy  with  a  note  saying  this  was 
the  last  time  I  should  help  him." 

"  Was  it  right  to  send  it  ?  "  I  ventured,  rather 
timidly. 

"  I  don't  know.  It's  only  for  mother's  sake, 
and  because  he  was  good  until  he  knew  Mrs.  Rob- 
ertson and  her  chums." 

Marion's  voice  trembled  with  excitement.  Her 
words  again  stabbed  me — Jack's  cousin  was  one 
of  the  chums. 

"  Tell  me,  Marion — You  know  many  more  peo- 
ple than  I  do — are  they  all  as  bad  as  Mrs.  Robert- 
son and — the  rest  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  ask  me.  Some  are  very  good. 
Only  they  seem  so  few  just  now !  They  are  few. 
I  cannot  help  the  uncharitableness  it  may  seem 
to  say  so." 

"  I  hate  Mrs.  Robertson !"  I  said,  vehemently. 
"If  she's  not  the  worst  of  the  party,  she's  the 
oldest,  and  has  the  greatest  influence  over  the 
others." 

"  There  is  no  use  talking  about  her.  The  only 
thing  would  be  to  get  Neddie  back  to  the  country. 
But  he  won't  go — of  that  I'm  certain.  He  told 
me  the  country  was  too  dead  slow  for  a  man  with 
any  sport  in  him,  and  that  he  was  having  a  bully 
good  time,  only  luck  was  against  him  at  cards. 


January.  269 

Of  course,  he  had  no  idea  how  he  was  talking," 
Marion  concluded  apologetically. 

"  It's  all  villainous !  And,  Marion,  I  should 
think  you'd  die  at  the  thought  of  facing  that 
Mission-class  next  time." 

"  I  shall  not  think  about  it.  It  was  chokingly 
hard  for  a  few  moments,  but  now  I'm  over  it." 

Marion  smiled  that  brave  forced  smile  which 
I  hate,  and  with  a  kiss  left  me.  My  book  failed 
to  chain  my  interest  after  she  had  gone.  Neddie 
Lawrence  forced  himself  in  front  of  the  heroine, 
and  meagre  as  his  proportions  are,  he  is  so  very 
real  and  miserable  that  he  eliminated  the  possi- 
bility of  seeing  the  "  tall,  slender  maiden  "  who 
played  golf,  and  fell  in  and  out  of  love  most 
comfortably,  from  cover  to  cover.  The  longer 
I  thought  of  the  case,  the  blacker  Mrs.  Robertson 
appeared.  Bridge-whist  and  poker  seemed  the 
very  incarnation  of  crime  and  wickedness ;  and 
for  me,  Mrs.  Robertson  was  their  accredited  High 
Priestess. 

My  head  began  to  ache  wearily.  I  clasped 
my  hands  over  my  forehead  and  pressed  back 
the  slow,  throbbing  pain  which  I  have  so  often 
lately.  Probably  the  ache  comes  from  the  effort 
of  my  dull  brain  to  penetrate  the  absorbing  mys- 
teries of  the  lives  about  me.  I  am  not  good  like 
Marion,  and  I  have  no  right  to  denounce  other 
people.  Am  I  simply  narrow  and  ignorant  and 


270  Dainty  Devils. 

limited?  Maybe  my  judgment  and  criticisms  of 
the  individuals  I  know  are  more  sinful  than  their 
card-playing  and  flirting  and  drinking.  Dear 
me,  I  am  growing  morbid !  I  know  I  am,  because 
last  night,  at  the  Fortnightly,  I  suddenly  had  a 
ghastly  vision  of  the  grave-yard  back  of  Uncle 
Dalton's  church,  with  its  significant  mounds 
under  the  snow,  and  for  a  moment  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  gay  crowd  in  the  ball  room  were 
doing  the  "  Two-Step  "  over  those  same  grim, 
cold,  white  graves.  I  know  I  shivered,  and  Jack 
brought  me  a  wrap,  but  the  room  was  melting 
hot,  and  I  was  chilly  only  through  imagination — 
which  kept  away  the  laughter  and  electric  light 
and  the  smooth  floor,  and  left  me  these  gayly- 
dressed  people  still  dancing  in  the  cold  moonlight 
over  the  mournful  mounds ;  profound  silence  in- 
stead of  the  music;  and  for  a  background  the 
black,  motionless  pines  which  used  to  frighten 
me  at  night  when  I  was  little  and  Lame  Ann 
had  taken  me  over  to  Uncle  Dalton's  for  tea — 
because  father  had  gone  to  Boston  to  spend  the 
day,  and  she  would  not  bother  to  get  supper 
for  only  me. 

In  the  warmth  and  comfort  of  my  room,  I 
again  found  myself  shivering.  Was  I  going  to 
be  ill,  or  what  ?  I  longed  for  Jack  to  come  home. 
He  had  said  he  would  be  late;  there  was  some 
panic  in  Wall  Street,  and  he  would  stay  as  long 


January.  271 

as  others  did.  I  concluded,  lonesomely,  that 
there  was  a  worse  panic  in  my  heart,  and  dis- 
covered I  was  sobbing. 

"  Oh  Jack !    Come  home,  come  home !  " 

******* 

It  was  an  evening  for  which  we  had  three  en- 
gagements, only  I  had  a  small  cold  and  a  big 
attack  of  nerves,  so  when  Dr.  Stanton  said  I  had 
better  stop  at  home,  Jack  warmly  approved.  I 
could  not  fail  to  see  that  he  was  pleased  at  the 
prospect  of  an  evening  alone  in  my  society,  and 
I  felt  much  gratified  for  a  while.  Dinner  over, 
my  throat  grew  worse,  my  head  began  to  ache, 
the  blues  deepened  fearfully,  and  I  presently 
forgot  that  Jack's  satisfaction  about  being  at 
home  alone  with  me,  was  decidedly  complimen- 
tary and  deserving  of  appreciation.  Twice  I 
answered  his  questions  irrelevantly ;  then  Jack 
sat  in  silence  and  clouds  of  tobacco-smoke  for 
what  was  probably  a  good  while,  because  when  he 
suddenly  spoke,  I  very  unpleasantly  jumped. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Jack." 

"  You're  exceedingly  nervous,  Dot.  What  ails 
you?" 

"  Nothing — except  New  York."  It  was  pro- 
voking to  have  started  so,  and  a  trifle  of  acidity 
might  have  been  detected  in  my  voice. 

"  Is  it  so  bad  as  that,  dear  ?  In  that  case  we 
ought  to  go  off  somewhere." 


272  Dainty  Devils. 

Jack  had  suggested  the  popular  cure  for  every- 
thing in  New  York.  It  is  a  wonder  that  people 
who  have  not  the  money  to  go,  and  are  forced 
to  stay,  get  over  things  about  as  well ! 

"  No,  I  don't  want  to ;  we're  home  so  short 
a  time;  let's  not  begin  to  be  wandering  Arabs, 
like  the  people  around  us.  It  seems  to  me  a  sin  to 
shut  up  beautiful  big  houses  and  live  all  over 
creation.  And  besides,  disagreeable  experiences 
are  probably  salutary  for  me." 

This  heroic  sentiment  was  of  the  lips,  not  the 
heart.  Jack  tenderly  patted  me.  He  is  at  times 
delightfully  motherly. 

"  Why  dwell  upon  the  disagreeable  things  ? 
Can't  you  linger  on  the  pleasant  side?  Our 
happiness,  for  instance?" 

I  fancied  there  was  a  note  of  reproach  in  Jack's 
tone,  and  sensitive  as  I  have  become  of  late, 
began  inanely  to  cry. 

"  Dot,  Dot !     What  am  I  to  do  with  you  ?" 

Perhaps  it  was  only  discouragement,  but  I 
thought  the  question  savored  of  impatience.  I 
believe  a  cross  husband  would  soon  kill  me. 

"Oh,  don't  scold  me!  I  can't  stand  it,"  I 
wailed. 

"  This  will  never  do ;  I  think  you  hardly  know 
what  you  are  saying."  Jack  dropped  my  hand 
and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  Qh,  what  a  way  to  speak  to  me !"    Jack  had 


January.  273 

never  looked  as  he  did  that  minute,  all  the  time 
I  had  known  him.  While  really  crying,  I  was 
not  so  overcome  but  that  I  could  peek  through 
my  fingers  at  him  all  the  time. 

"  If  you  were  satisfied  with  me,  you  couldn't 
get  so  down-hearted,  no  matter  what  happened." 
Such  a  cold,  judicial  tone  from  Jack,  was  mad- 
dening. 

"  Oh-oh-oh !"  I  threw  myself  down  into  the 
cushions  upon  the  couch,  too  crushed  to  think 
of  peeking  any  longer.  "  If  it  were  day  time 
I'd  go  home  to  father !" 

I  wonder  how  many  wives  threaten  to  go 
home  to  father — "  or  mother" — every  day  ?  And 
what  percentage  of  these  would  be  welcome  to 
"  father  "—or  "  mother  "  ? 

"  Thank  you !" 

I  glanced  up  hastily.  Jack  never  swears,  main- 
taining that  swearing  is  a  form  of  cowardice, 
but  he  looked  exactly  as  though  he  meant  "  Damn 
it !"  He  said  not  a  syllable  beyond  the  two  words 
of  sarcastic  gratitude.  I  was  hurt  to  the  quick 
and  went  on  recklessly : 

"  You  are  quite  welcome.  I  thought  you'd  be 
glad  to  get  rid  of  me."  What  an  insolent  lie 
it  was ! 

I  suppose  I  expected  some  denial,  some  plead- 
ing and  petting.  Slowly  paling,  Jack  gazed  at 
me  a  second  or  two.  I  quivered  and  sobbed 

18 


274  Dainty  Devils. 

tearlessly,  confidently  expecting  to  drop  my  head 
directly  upon  his  solacing  shoulder.  Instead  I 
saw  Jack  turn  upon  his  heel  and  leave  me.  I 
blinked  in  amazement.  At  first  I  was  not  fright- 
ened. I  was  only  angrier  than  in  the  beginning. 
It  was  the  sound  of  the  hall-door  closing  that 
brought  me  hurriedly  to  my  feet. 

"  Jack !     Jack  !"     I  called,  wildly. 

It  was  no  use.  Jack  had  gone  out.  He  had 
run  away  from  me,  his  wife.  I  flew  to  the  closet 
where  his  hats  and  coats  are  kept.  Derbys,top- 
hats,  Alpines,  visor-caps — Yes,  the  brown  derby 
was  missing.  And — my  heart  stood  still — the 
night  was  bitter  cold  but  Jack  had  gone  out  with- 
out a  coat.  Driven  out  of  the  house  by  me !  Oh, 
what  should  I  do?  Why  did  I  not  die  when  I 
was  born  ?  Why  had  I  not  rushed  after  Jack  and 
kept  him  from  going  out? — 

I  returned  to  the  library,  and  passionately  wept. 
How  long  had  Jack  been  away?  What  if  he 
never  came  back?  Or  took  pneumonia?  Oh,  he 
must  come  now !  Where  had  he  gone  ?  I  had 
not  meant  what  I  said.  How  could  he  misunder- 
stand his  devoted  wife?  If  he  only  had  put 
on  a  coat?  Stout  people  catch  cold  so  easily, 
and  had  I  not  heard  that  their  hearts  nearly 
always  gave  out  if  they  contracted  pneumonia? 
Oh,  I  should  go  crazy!  This  was  indeed  genu- 


January.  275 

ine  wretchedness.  If  he  did  not  come  soon  there 
would  be  an  end  of  me. 

Unable  to  cry  any  longer,  I  ran  into  the  hall, 
and  paced  up  and  down,  straining  my  ears  at  every 
sound,  in  hope  that  I  should  hear  Jack  upon  the 
steps.  How  horribly  wicked  I  had  been !  Had 
I  not  tortured  Jack  for  several  weeks  past  by  my 
despondency  and  irritability?  Had  I  not  been 
lacking  even  in  those  outward  demonstrations 
of  affection  which,  while  they  are  not  essential 
to  a  happy  life,  certainly  help  it  along  consider- 
ably ?  My  soul  wilted  under  the  misery  of  the 
thought  that  for  more  than  a  week  I  had  been 
too  pre-occupied  to  pet  poor  Jack  at  all.  Dear 
Jack,  the  best  man  that  ever  walked  this  earth ! 
And  now  he  had  left  me ! 

A  servant  appeared.  I  slipped  quickly  into 
Jack's  den,  ashamed  to  be  caught  racing  through 
the  hall.  Tenderly  and  with  a  big  lump  in  my 
throat,  I  touched  Jacks'  ash-receiver  and  his 
cigar-cutter.  They  were  precious,  they  were  a 
consolation,  because  Jack's  fingers  so  often  held 
them.  Faithful,  inanimate  servants,  they  had 
never  offended  him !  Would  he  ever  again  use 
them?  The  agony  of  the  question! 

Hark !  The  bell  had  rung.  If  it  should  be  a 
caller  and  not  Jack !  I  would  risk  it — I  must — 
I  was  choking  with  a  combination  of  dread  and 
contrition.  The  door  was  opened ;  no  one  spoke. 


276  Dainty  Devils. 

A  visitor  would  be  obliged  to  say  something. 
How  many  seconds  did  it  take  the  servant  to  be 
out  of  hearing?  Surely  I  had  waited  long 
enough.  With  a  mad  rush  I  darted  out  of  the 
room,  and  screamed  softly  as  I  found  myself 
caught  in  Jack's  arms. 

"  Oh,  Jack,"  I  cried,  clinging  to  him  convul- 
sively, "  I  was  awful,  and  I  am  so  sorry !" 

"  My  darling !  I  was  a  fool  and  a  brute.  I 
ought  to  be  sorry,  and  I  am.  You're  tired  out 
and  ill,  and  I  made  no  allowance  for  you,  poor 
child.'-  Jack's  repentant  kisses  fell  fast. 

"  I  thought  you  might  never  come  back,"  I 
whispered,  fearfully.  "  Is  it  hours  since  you 
left?" 

"  Fifteen  minutes,  dear.  Did  you  worry  so 
much  as  that?  It  makes  me  sick  to  think  how 
ridiculous  I  was." 

By  this  time  I  was  on  Jack's  knee,  in  the  cozy 
den,  rubbing  his  poor,  cold  hands. 

"  What  made  you  go  out,  Jack  ?  I  was 
naughty,  but  your  punishment  was  very  cruel." 

"  I  thought— Don't  make  me  tell  it,  Dot." 

"  Yes,  you  must.     Anyway,  I  know." 

"  No,  you  don't.  It  was  because  I  thought 
you  didn't  care  for  me  any  more."  Jack's  grav- 
ity was  almost  comical. 

"  That's  just  what  I  meant.  How  could  you, 
Jack?" 


January.  277 

I  grew  silent,  struck  unpleasantly  by  a  new 
thought. 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  could,  except,  as  I  said, 
because  I  was  temporarily  a  fool.  What  makes 
you  so  serious  now?"  He  raised  my  chin  and 
smiled  into  my  eyes. 

"  Jack,"  I  said,  regretfully,  "  do  you  know  we 
have  had  our  first  quarrel?" 

Jack  sighed  heavily,  the  smile  completely  mur- 
dered. 

"  I  fear  we  shall  have  to  call  it  that,"  said  he. 

"  Well,"  earnestly,  "  let's  never  have  another." 

"  Agreed,  Dot." 

And  we  kissed  and  were — even  if  some  people 
may  not  understand  what  I  mean — solemnly 
happy  for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  Nevertheless 
I  wish  we  had  never  had  the  sad  experience  of 
each  other's  tempers.  It  could  all  have  been 
so  easily  avoided — If  either  one  of  us  had  had 
a  wee  bit  more  patience  and  common  sense! 
I  am  positive  that  many  big  troubles  between 
husbands  and  wives  commence  with  some  such 
foolish,  trifling  things  at  the  start.  In  my  opin- 
ion the  sweetest  "  make-up  "  that  ever  happened, 
is  not  worth  the  sting,  the  selfishness  and  the 
wretchedness,  of  a  quarrel. 

We  sat  talking  till  very  late,  and  in  spite  of  an 
uninterrupted  flow  of  affectionate  eloquence,  Jack 
impressed  me  as  having  a  reserved  something 


278  Dainty  Devils. 

upon  his  mind,  which  he  fain  would  communi- 
cate. 

We  had  not  been  long  upstairs  when  out  came 
the  matter: 

"  I  met  Arnold  Allison  on  the  street,  Dot." 

"  Yes,"  I  responded,  for  Jack  paused  as  though 
expecting  me  to  speak. 

"  He  was  walking  so  rapidly  and  recklessly 
that  we  collided  at  the  corner.  I  began  to  apol- 
ogize to  the  supposed  stranger  when  the  electric 
light  made  us  plain  to  each  other."  Here  Jack 
hesitated  perceptibly,  and  glanced  at  me  in 
alarmed  haste. 

"  I — I'm  afraid  I  looked  pretty  queer,  Dot, 
because,  as  I  mentally  noted  Allison's  pallor 
and  distracted  expression,  he  cried  out :  '  My 
God !  Woodward,  are  you  getting  it,  too  ?'  " 

I  know  I  frowned  furiously.  What  business 
had  Jack  to  go  out  with  the  advertisement  of  our 
first  difficulty  stamped  upon  his  face?  I  should 
rather  he  would  have — Yes,  I  should — struck 
me,  provided  we  had  been  alone,  than  have  an 
inkling  of  our  foolish  quarrel  become  known  to 
our  friends. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  I  asked,  very  haughtily, 
considering  the  beautiful  humility  I  had  displayed 
since  Jack's  return. 

"What  did  I  say?"  Jack  echoed.  "Why  of 
course,  I  asked  him  what  on  earth  he  meant  ?" 


January.  279 

"  And  he  said  ?"     I  prompted,  much  relieved. 

"  He  laughed  like  a  fiend,  Dot,  and  answered 
that  if  I  didn't  know,  it  must  be  all  right." 

"  It  is  all  right,"  I  declared,  decidedly.  "  And 
we'll  never  be  such  idots  again.  Did  he  tell  you 
what  troubled  him,  Jack?" 

"  No :  he  bolted  after  exclaiming  that  it  was 
all  right."  Jack  paused,  meditating.  "  Dot,  do 
you  know  whether  Lou  has  been  less  interested 
in  Allison  than  usual,  lately  ?  Since  she  returned 
from  her  trip?" 

I  returned  Jack's  penetrating  scrutiny  squarely. 

"  Lou  has  been  home  only  a  few  days.  I 
know  nothing  new.  I  fancied  you  knew  nothing, 
either  new  or  old.  As  for  Allison,  I  can't  make 
him  out." 

"  Can  you  make  Lou  out  ?" 

My  glance  fell.     What  should  I  answer? 

"  I  don't  know,  Jack."  That  is  the  safest 
answer  in  all  situations  and  under  all  circum- 
stances. Only  sometimes  it  is  cowardly  and  half 
a  lie — the  resource  of  social  sneaks. 

"  You  must  have  some  opinion  in  the  matter," 
Jack  insisted,  pulling  his  moustache  as  if  his  life 
depended  upon  the  exercise. 

"  I  think,  dear,  that  Lou  is  charming  and  fas- 
cinating— and  devilish." 

Jack  was  not  shocked  at  the  last  word,  much 


280  Dainty  Devils. 

to  my  surprise,  for  he  is  one  of  those  men  who 
think  no  ugly  word  should  cross  feminine  lips. 

"  You  wouldn't  trust  Lou,  Dot  ?" 

"Oh,  dear!  What  do  you  mean  by  trust? 
I'm  deadly  tired  and  can't  think  logically  any 
more." 

Jack  deeply  sighed.  Lou  and  Belle  are  the 
same  as  sisters  in  his  affections,  and  neither  one 
could  be  anything  but  a  trial  and  an  affliction  to 
a  brother  who  loved  her.  I  think  adoptions  are 
breathlessly  risky,  even  if  everyone  concerned  is 
in  the  family. 

"  We  must  hope  for  the  best,"  said  Jack,  pa- 
thetically cheerful.  "  After  all,  Allison  may 
have  had  a  bad  attack  of  indigestion  this  evening. 
'  It '  is  enormously  indefinite." 

I  am  sure  Jack  meant  me  to  say  that  his  own 
guilty  conscience  had  caused  him  to  give  a  serious 
interpretation  to  Allison's  words.  So  far  I  have 
not  enough  conventional  polish  to  instantaneously 
fill  the  part  another  thrusts  upon  me.  The  ac- 
complishment is,  I  allow,  a  valuable  one  to  those 
who  can  (while  putting  on  the  external  polish) 
succeed  in  shading  the  inconvenient  lamp  accom- 
panying our  reason,  and  known  as  conscience: 
Its  light  is  relentless  and  pierces  through  veneer 
in  a  manner  calculated  to  daunt  the  boldest 
believer  in  his  own  shams.  Such  a  lamp  must 
be  covered,  hidden,  extinguished — best  of  all, 


January.  281 

thrown  away — when  one  enters  the  arena  where 
the  prizes  of  society  are  awarded.  There  is  light 
there — plenty  of  it — glaring,  artificial  light,  which 
greets  artificial  polish  as  a  near  relation,  and 
bathes  it  in  a  blaze  of  radiance.  Only  the  light 
which  God  has  given,  the  lamp  which  Heaven 
has  filled,  conscience,  sensitive  and  clean, 
is  the  worst  sort  of  superfluity  for  the  indivi- 
dual entering  the  contest  for  social  success.  If 
one  cannot  even  fib  promptly  and  to  the  point, 
what  is  the  use  of  attempting  anything  more 
advanced?  One  who  does  not  know  his  alpha- 
bet, must  not  try  to  write  an  essay. 

The  power  for  evil  in  intellect  stripped  of  con- 
science, is  immeasurable.  The  potency  for  good 
in  a  conscience  quickened  by  the  stupidest  mind 
is  undoubtedly,  at  least  before  God  and  the 
angels,  also  illimitable.  Probably  I  am  not  at 
all  clever,  so  let  me  find  consolation  and  grati- 
tude in  the  reflection  that  I  possess  an  abundance 
of  inconvenient  old-fashioned  conscience. 

Jack  had  waited  some  time  for  me  to  say  more. 
At  last  he  spoke : 

"  You  don't  want  to  discuss  the  question,  Dot  ? 
Well,  never  mind." 

Lou  is  not  worth  such  a  deep,  deep  sigh,  as 
I  heard  Jack  breathe. 


FEBRUARY. 

It  was  a  most  forsaken  morning,  pouring  rain, 
and  the  side-walks,  houses  and  everything,  jet 
black  with  the  wet.  The  lights  were  turned  on 
for  breakfast,  and  a  sleepy  feeling  made  us 
absent-minded  and  untalkative,  as  if  we  had  been 
summoned  to  the  table  in  the  middle  of  the  night. 
Jack,  after  somnolency  had  somewhat  decreased, 
had  the  absorbing  distraction  of  the  newspaper, 
leaving  me  to  desultorily  open  notes  and  invita- 
tions, and  wonder  how  many  I  should  have  to 
answer  at  once.  I  was  so  numb  and  listless 
that  Jack's  departure  passed  almost  unnoted,  in- 
stead of  calling  forth  tender  complaints  at  the 
cruel  order  of  things  which  has  created  a  "  down- 
town "  to  which  the  majority  of  men  flock  every 
morning — in  many  cases,  I  believe,  mutely  grate- 
ful for  the  obligation. 

A  victim  of  late  to  pricks  of  conscience  induced 
by  long  neglect  of  practising,  I  roused  sufficient 
ambition  to  begin  some  scales  upon  the  violin. 
One  dances  to  the  music  of  a  violin,  and  I  sup- 
pose it  is  therefore  capable  of  joyous  strains. 

282 


February.  283 

For  me  it  is  the  best  medium  for  the  expression 
of  sadness  and  loneliness,  doubt  and  dread.  I 
wandered  from  the  salutary  scales  into  a  maze 
of  musical  scraps,  all  slow,  minor,  quivering  with 
misery. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Dot,  quit !  " 

"  Lou !  I  never  heard  you.  Isn't  the  weather 
awful?" 

Lou  dropped  a  wet  coat  and  a  wetter  hat  upon 
a  chair. 

She  did  not  seem  to  notice  my  kiss. 

"  I  believe  it  is.     I  hadn't  stopped  to  consider." 

"  Has  anything  happened,  Lou  ?  And  did 
you  walk  here  without  an  umbrella?" 

"  Nothing  has  happened.  Your  doleful  selec- 
tion of  music  exasperated  me,  that's  all.  It 
sounded  like  Arnold's." 

The  remark  grated  upon  me. 

"  Shall  we  go  upstairs  ?"  I  asked,  coldly. 
"  Probably  it  will  seem  less  dreary  than  down 
here." 

I  carefully  put  away  my  violin,  tucking  in  the 
silk  handkerchief  very  tenderly.  The  instrument 
had  responded  to  my  mood.  Lou  was  an  inhar- 
monious interruption. 

"'Oh,  no!  All  places  are  alike  to  me  at  pres- 
ent. And  I've  been  talking  to  my  lawyer  for  the 
last  hour,  so  one  flight  of  stairs  is  too  much  ex- 
ertion for  my  exhausted  nerves.  Do  you  know 


284  Dainty  Devils. 

anything  about  law,  Dot  ?"  Lou  frowned  whim- 
sically at  me. 

"  No ;  or  at  least  so  little  that  it  isn't  worth 
mentioning." 

Lou  laughed,  much  to  my  relief,  as  frowns  do 
not  become  her. 

"  Oh,  well,  you  won't  ever  need  to  know  more, 
most  likely.  It's  immensely  interesting.  Given 
a  clever  lawyer,  one  can  get  in  or  out  of  any- 
thing." 

Completely  at  a  loss  as  to  the  trend  of  Lou's 
thoughts,  I  made  no  attempt  to  refute  her  alarm- 
ing assertion.  She  suddenly  darted  to  the  win- 
dow. 

"  There  goes  Mrs.  Robertson.  I  should  know 
her  gaudy  equipage  if  I  met  it  in  Hades.  I  say 
Dot !  Have  you  any  idea  what  goblin  has  got 
her?" 

"  Why?"  I  asked,  putting  some  music  in  order. 

"  She's  going  around  with  a  set  face,  and  isn't 
eating  anything  like  her  proper  rations.  Belle 
had  a  note  from  her  saying  she's  dreadfully  hard 
up  for  money  and  won't  Belle  please  pay  her 
last  winnings  at  once?  Jingo!  If  I  had  a  rich 
old  idiot  for  a  mother,  and  she  was  as  stingy 
as  hers,  I'd  poison  her  coffee  some  morning,  if 
there  was  no  other  way  of  getting  at  the  mil- 
lions !" 

"  Lou,  you're  not  like  yourself  this  morning." 


February.  285 

"  Am  I  not  ?  I'm  so  glad  you  have  warned 
me.  You  see  I  got  weak  and  tired  at  the 
lawyer's  and  he  recommended  a  high-ball  to 
steady  me.  So  I  stopped  at  Blanks'  and  had  one 
on  the  way  up.  It  must  have  been  a  very  heavy 
one,  because  I'm  sort  of  dizzy  and  can  just  about 
recognize  people,  and  that's  all.  I  have,"  laugh- 
ing boisterously,  "  an  uncontrollable  desire  to 
talk." 

A  sensation  of  supreme  disgust  came  over 
me.  Then  the  recollection  of  the  name  Belle  St. 
John  often  derisively  called  me,  "  Pharisee", 
stung  me  into  repentant  patience. 

"  What  a  horrid  man,"  I  said,  endeavoring  to 
give  him  all  the  blame,  "  to  advise  a  woman  to 
drink  whiskey !" 

"  Not  at  all,  dear ;  the  advice  was  most  kind 
and  timely.  Why  should  a  woman  have  to  live 
under  the  old-fashioned  constraint  which  defined 
one  set  of  ethics  for  men,  and  a  different  one  for 
her?  We  want  men's  freedom  and  men's  privi- 
leges, even  though  some  of  their  bothersome  re- 
sponsibilities have  to  be  thrown  in.  I'm  glad  I 
didn't  live  before  the  days  I  could  go  into  a  place 
for  a  drink  if  I  wanted  to.  Not,"  she  volubly  rat- 
tled on,  "  that  the  particular  department  of  alco- 
holic beverages  especially  appeals  to  me.  That's 
more  in  Belle's  line." 


286  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Would  you  mind  sitting  down,  Lou  ?  You 
fatigue  me." 

"  Dot  upon  her  dignity !  As  you  used  to  be 
perpetually  when  we  first  knew  each  other.  I 
didn't  come  to  stay." 

"  You'd  better — at  least,  Lou,  till  you've  di- 
gested that  high-ball.  Come  up  to  my  room  and 
lie  down." 

"  No,  you  don't.  I'm  not  so  far  gone  that  I 
need  to  sleep  it  off.  Dot,  I  came  to  ask  a  favor." 

Lou  leaned  against  the  piano  and  solemnly 
studied  my  face.  For  me  the  room  was  decidedly 
chilly,  but  Lou  was  flushed  and  over-heated  from 
indulgence  in  the  early  stimulant. 

"  You  may  ask  as  many  as  you  please." 

"  And  you'll  grant  me  as  many  as  you  please  ? 
Really,  you've  grown  amazingly  saucy  and 
wily.  Dot,  wouldn't  you  always  take  my  part?" 
Her  beautiful  teeth  flashed  in  a  confident  smile. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  I  answered, 
vaguely  troubled. 

"  Oh,  in  a  row  or  an  argument,  or  any  old 
thing?" 

"  Are  you  in  a  row?" 

"  Patience !  You're  worse  than  a  lawyer.  I 
mean  wouldn't  you  make  a  small  sacrifice,  put 
yourself  out  a  bit,  to  get  me  out  of  trouble?  I'd 
do  as  much  for  you,  I  swear." 

Mystified,  I  watched  Lou  growing  redder  as 


February.  287 

she  thumped  the  piano  excitedly.  How  very 
potent  a  high-ball  must  be ! 

"  I'd  do  anything  I  could,  Lou,  provided  it  was 
honest." 

"  Oh,  the  deuce !  Well,  it  would  be  honest, 
of  course." 

She  seemed  to  expect  a  reiteration  of  my  words. 
I  remained  silent,  concluding  that  her  random 
talk  was  not  to  be  taken  seriously.  Lou  brought 
her  fist  down  hard  upon  my  violin-case. 

"  In  the  hour  of  need,"  said  she,  mockingly 
grave,  "  do  we  discover  who  are  our  true  friends. 
I'll  still  bet  on  you,  Dot." 

I  had  nothing  to  say.  I  wished  very  sincerely 
that  my  violin  practice  had  not  been  interrupted. 
Suddenly,  after  quite  a  pause,  during  which  I 
listened  nervously  to  the  beating,  spattering,  driv- 
ing rain,  so  soothing,  so  annoying,  according  to 
our  chance  mood,  Lou  darted  to  the  piano  and 
began  to  play  and  sing,  "  Coon,  Coon,  Coon !" 

She  has  a  clear  staccato  touch,  and  the  kind 
of  ringing  voice  which  is  best  adapted  to  rag- 
time. Rolling  her  eyes,  grinning  so  that  her 
teeth  were  visible  in  all  their  glory,  nodding  her 
black  head  at  petrified  me,  she  flew  along  in  a 
whirl  of  sound  and  motion.  Abruptly  she 
stopped.  I  started  as  the  silence  struck  me.  Lou 
rising  from  the  piano  was  her  pale,  sobered  self. 
The  change  was  marvelous. 


288  Dainty  Devils. 

"  That  was  a  dirge  to  my  wasted  youth,"  she 
said,  quietly.  "  My  kind  of  a  dirge.  I  am  thirty, 
Dot,  but  I'll  be  happy  yet." 

Lou  straightened  the  fulness  in  her  red  blouse, 
picked  up  her  hat  and  told  me  to  go  back  to  my 
practising.  Mechanically  I  helped  her  put  on  her 
coat.  Like  all  her  clothes,  it  fitted  her  to  crease- 
less  perfection,  and  despite  dampness  and  limp- 
ness, Lou  stood  before  me  a  model  of  finished 
elegance.  Only  pre-occupied  indifference  was  in 
her  face ;  flush,  impishness,  and  all  traces  of  a 
high-ball  were  gone. 

"  How  pretty  you  are,  Lou !"  I  exclaimed,  in- 
voluntarily. 

"Think  so?  I'm  too  thin,  but  thank  you  all 
the  same." 

"  Won't  you  wait  and  let  me  telephone  to  the 
stable?" 

"  No,  for  goodness'  sake.  I  want  the  walk  in 
the  pour.  It's  good  for  the  skin,  and  I  haven't 
any  rheumatism." 

"  Are  you  going  home  ?" 

"  Yep — No — Let  me  see !  Yes,  I  think  I  will. 
May  I  use  your  phone?" 

"Of  course.    Why  this  sudden  formality ?  " 

Lou's  laugh  fills  in  all  pauses,  embarrassments 
and  unspoken  replies.  A  gay  peal  answered  me 
and  she  rushed  to  the  instrument. 


February.  289 

I  tried  not  to  listen — honestly  I  did — and  I  paid 
no  attention  till  I  heard : 

"  Yes,  my  house  at  two.  I'm  dying  of  the 
blues.  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  day?  An  en- 
gagement ?" 

Silence  for  a  few  seconds,  then  my  end  of  the 
conversation — always  to  one  listening  so  com- 
ically like  a  monologue,  in  which  words  have 
become  mixed  or  forgotten — was  resumed: 

"  Break  any  and  all  engagements  you  have.  I 
don't  care  for  the  consequences.  I  shall  not 
touch  a  mouthful  of  luncheon  till  you  arrive. 
You'll  come?  All  right.  If  you  don't,  I'll  make 
for  the  river.  Good-bye." 

"  Were  you  talking  to  Mr.  Allison  ?"  I  inquired, 
severely,  as  Lou  returned  to  me. 

"  Was  I  ?  If  you  thought  I  was,  why  are  you 
so  cross  about  it?  See  here,  Dot,  do  you  fancy 
any  sane  person  living  would  take  a  dose  of  Alli- 
son for  the  blues?" 

"  You  horrid,  wicked  woman !  And  you  made 
Percy  promise  to  luncheon  with  you !  " 

"  The  same  time,  dear,  I  give  you  permission 
to  have  Arnold  Allison  here."  This  with  a  deli- 
cate, attenuated  sneer,  which  galled  all  the  worse 
because  it  was  so  daintily  calculated. 

"  Oh,  Lou,  how  can  you  ?" 

She  was  going,  and  stopped  near  the  door. 

"  I  forgot  one  piece  of  news,  Dot.    Addie  Lay- 

19 


290  Dainty  Devils. 

ton  has  her  sixth — another  boy.  Won't  it  be  a 
relief  to  have  the  number  changed?  Imagine 
her  rendering  of  the  refrain — '  Six  helpless  chil- 
dren.' Can't  you  hear  her  now?" 

"  I  must  send  some  roses — "  I  said,  thinking 
aloud. 

"  No,  don't ;  Addie  threw  a  boxful  at  the  head 
of  her  husband,  as  I  stopped  to  leave  my  con- 
gratulations on  the  way  here." 

"  How  in  the  world  do  you  know  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  door  of  her  room  was  open,  and  I 
heard  her  sweet  voice  altercating,  and  then  the 
box  came  over  the  banister  and  down  the  stairs. 
Poor  Layton  ran  down  to  explain  that  Addie 
was  a  bit  nervous." 

"  If  only  some  men  weren't  such  sheep !"  I  ex- 
claimed. 

Lou  eyed  me  coolly. 

"  I  presume  you  allude  to  Layton  and  Allison," 
said  she,  unemotionally.  "  And  neither  one  has 
a  lamb  for  a  wife." 

I  recalled  my  unfortunate  quarrel  with  Jack. 
He  is  not  a  sheep  but  his  wife  is  far  from  being 
a  lamb.  Upon  occasion  she  has  come  sugges- 
tively near  the  category  of  a  goose. 

"  Lou,"  I  began,  rather  meekly,  "  why  do  you 
make  yourself  out  so  much  worse  than  you  are  ?" 

"  I  never  do.  You  needn't  accuse  me  of  that. 
And  see  here — you  won't  be  shocked  by  me 


February.  291 

much  longer.  I'm  going  away  again — Oh,  for 
an  awfully  long  time — in  about  a  fortnight. 
Some  far-off  cousins  have  asked  me  to  Jekyll 
Island,  and  I'm  going  as  soon  as  Blanches!  sends 
my  new  togs." 

"  You're  only  home  from  the  West  about  a 
month.  Is  Mr.  Allison  going  to  Jekyll  Island 
with  you  ?" 

Lou  opened  her  eyes  enormously  wide.  Then 
she  fairly  shrieked  with  laughter. 

"  Arnold  going  with  me  ?  You  may  bet  all 
Jack's  worth,  that  he's  not.  How  awfully  funny 
you  are,  Dot !" 

"  I'd  rather  be  funny,  as  you  call  it,  than  un- 
principled," I  hotly  returned.  "  Don't  you  think 
a  wife  has  any  duties  whatever  ?" 

"  Why !"  exclaimed  Lou,  putting  on  an  exas- 
peratingly  innocent  look.  "  Arnold  wouldn't 
leave  his  nice  times  with  you,  you  know,  even  if 
I  wanted  him.  Jekyll  Island  wouldn't  have'  the 
ghost  of  a  chance." 

"  Oh !"  I  cried,  too  angry  to  get  out  another 
syllable. 

"  Good-bye,  dear  little  innocent !  If  Allison 
comes,  don't  send  him  home  early.  I  trust  your 
power  of  fascination." 

Another  laugh,  a  kiss,  and  the  door  slammed 
upon  her.  Probably  she  had  no  idea  how  her 
words  had  stung  me.  Mr.  Allison  was  here  verjr 


292  Dainty  Devils. 

frequently  before  the  Holidays,  to  play  trio-music 
with  Marion  and  me.  Did  Lou  not  understand 
that  music,  and  music  only,  was  the  attraction? 
Did  she  not  know  me?  Did  she  not  know  Jack? 
A  painful  flush  rose  to  my  hair.  Did  others  be- 
sides Lou  jest  about  Mr.  Allison's  visits  at  my 
house?  To  flirt  with  anyone  outside  of  Jack, 
had  never  been  even  a  temptation.  Was  I  to 
be  punished  for  believing  myself  so  much  better 
than  most  of  the  women  I  knew  ? 

I  could  no  longer  practise.  I  was  too  aston- 
ished and  angry  and  alarmed.  How  dare  Lou 
insinuate,  even  in  fun,  that  I  had  been  coquetting 
with  her  husband?  As  if  Allison  would  be  the 
kind  to  infatuate  me!  What  had  I  been  saying 
to  myself?  Was  I  tactily  admitting  that  there 
were  other  men  with  whom  I  might  flirt?  No, 
no,  no !  Impossible  to  make  myself  so  cheap.  I 
love  Jack  dearly,  and  I  am  tremendously  proud 
of  him,  and  he  is  certainly  good  to  me.  //  / 
hated  him  and  had  made  a  wretched  mistake,  I 
should  value  myself  too  highly  to  acknowledge 
such  a  miserable  state  of  affairs  to  the  world,  by 
seeking  the  diversion  of  a  flirtation  with  some 
one  else. 

I  am  very  fond  of  Mr.  Allison,  and  should  not 
hesitate  to  tell  Lou  so.  Were  he  disposed  to 
flirt,  I  am  much  too  old-fashioned  to  admire  him 
as  I  do  now.  His  passiveness  about  his  wife's 


February.  293 

'foolish  conduct  has  frequently  angered  me,  par- 
ticularly at  first,  when  I  judged  from  the  sur- 
face of  things,  and  believed  Allison  as  free  from 
emotion  as  his  absolute  self-possession  might  in- 
dicate. Lately  I  understand  him  differently — 
although  I  still  feel  I  am  far  from  knowing  him 
— and  often  fancy  that  sudden  flashes  of  deep 
feeling  escape  him,  without  his  suspecting  the 
fact.  Before  I  recover  from  the  surprise,  he  is 
Allison  again.  And,  longing  to  be  his  friend, 
I  am  far  off  somewhere  in  the  field  of  acquain- 
tances, with  the  sensation  of  having  been  cour- 
teously and  coldly  told,  "  No  farther,  please." 
Even  among  men,  I  am  certain  Allison  has  no  in- 
timate friends.  Perhaps  longing  for  Lou's  af- 
fection, and  failing  in  receiving  it,  he  shrinks 
from  asking  any  love  of  other  people.  It  is  not 
difficult  then,  to  comprehend  how  a  shy,  proud 
man,  having  given  his  utmost  devotion,  could 
not  approach  a  woman  upon  the  subject  of  her 
love  for  another  man. 

What  good  will  this  affair  with  Percy  do  Lou 
Allison?  She  cannot  marry  him.  And  would 
he  have  Lou  were  she  free  ?  When  the  forbidden 
fruit  is  flung  before  us  with  the  importunate  com- 
mand to  eat  it,  its  beauty  and  flavor  soon  depart. 
Great  is  the  glamour  of  the  unattainable!  The 
dramatic  agony  of  hopeless  love  stimulates  de- 
votion till  the  apparently  insurmountable  obsta- 


294  Dainty  Devils. 

cles  are  swept  away ;  then  the  dream,  the  agony, 
and  often  love  itself  vanish  with  the  obstacles,  at 
the  very  moment  that  Society  says,  "  Bless  you, 
my  children." 

Huddled  upon  the  couch  in  my  room — that 
pink  bower  which  has  witnessed  so  many  of  the 
tears  of  its  unappreciative  owner — I  went  deeper 
and  deeper  into  a  brown  study  where  no  rosy 
hue  penetrated.  I  had  thought  I  was  learning 
my  lessons  of  social  etiquette,  polite  lies,  intrigues 
and  shams.  It  had  been  a  shock  to  receive  Lou's 
laughing  words  about  her  husband  coming  to  see 
me.  Had  Marion  known  that  people  said  things  ? 
For  I  had  rushed  to  the  conclusion  that  I  was  the 
subject  of  gossip,  and  if  so,  Marion  had  wilfully 
left  me  in  ignorance.  How  intolerably  mean ! 
Was  even  Marion  not  a  true  friend?  Oh,  I 
would  not  believe  she  had  neglected  warning  me 
if  she  knew  anything  about  my  name  being  drag- 
ged into  the  Allison  difficulties ! 

I  have  not  seen  much  of  Marion  lately.  She 
is  more  than  ever  hopelessly  devoted  to  charity, 
besides  spending  more  time  with  her  mother  than 
formerly,  partly  to  prevent  her  from  hearing 
much  about  Neddie  Lawrence,  and  partly 
because  Mrs.  LaGrange  has  recently  been  in 
rather  poor  health.  Marion  herself  is  looking 
old  and  worn.  Her  girlish  freshness  is  being  lost 
in  the  lines  and  shadows  of  a  tired  woman's  face. 


February.  295 

I  tried  to  deceive  myself  for  a  while,  as  one  fain 
would  where  one  is  fond.  Now  I  have  to  give 
in  that  Marion,  not  yet  twenty-one,  is  fading.  I 
heard  two  insipid  youths  discussing  her  at 
Sherry's  one  night  last  week.  There  were  plants 
between  them  and  me,  and  they  did  not  take  the 
trouble  to  look  around,  when,  having  in  mind 
an  occasion  upon  which  I  failed  to  do  so,  and 
heard  something  not  meant  for  my  ears,  I  furi- 
ously coughed. 

"  Marion  was  beastly  pale,  don't  you  know," 
and  her  "  cheekbones  were  beginning  to  be  deuc- 
edly  prominent ;  "  altogether  they  concluded  she 
was  "  no  longer  in  it  with  the  debutantes." 

One  of  the  wonders  of  life  is  that  strange 
species  of  insanity  called  love.  One  woman  loves 
one  man  out  of  the  earth's  millions,  and  loves 
him  so  madly,  that  while  thousands  are  hand- 
somer and  nobler  than  he,  if  she  is  doomed  to  live 
without  him,  she  will  either  pathetically  die  or 
continue  to  exist  a  sorry  shadow  of  what  she 
might  have  been,  crowned  with  the  happiness  of 
possessing  her  idol.  Then  a  man  loves  a  woman  so 
passionately,  that  being  denied  her,  he  takes  to  a 
pistol,  drink  or  cynicism,  and  in  one  of  the 
three  ways,  ruins  all  his  chances  in  this  world 
and  the  next.  Marion  could  choose  among  half- 
a-dozen,  and  here  she  is  wasting  youth  and  beauty 
because  the  particular  Percy  regards  her  in  the 


296  Dainty  Devils. 

calm  light  of  a  nice  girl  for  some  other  chap  to 
marry.  Verily  there  is  no  greater  joy,  no  deeper 
misery  or  mightier  power  in  the  universe  than 
love.  I  have  heard  middle-aged  women  with 
grown  daughters  and  shrinking  incomes  talk 
this  winter  about  love  being  out  of  style,  and  not 
at  all  necessary  in  the  bestowal  of  their  girls 
in  marriage.  If  the  daughters  themselves  reach 
this  godless  condition  of  regarding  matrimony 
as  a  blameless  method  of  relieving  parents  and 
obtaining  a  splendid  home  and  stunning  gowns, 
there  will  be  some  excitement  five  or  six  years 
from  now,  when  Love,  thwarted  and  insulted, 
claims  as  victims  the  hearts  which  have  already 
been,  falsely  and  blasphemously  at  God's  altar, 
pledged  for  a  life-time's  service  and  devotion 
where  cold  indifference  is  the  least  evil  one  dare 
expect. 

Love  will  never  go  out  of  style,  nor  will  it 
always  strike  in  the  direction  most  desired  by 
the  on-lookers.  Do  I  not  wish  Marion  detested 
Percy  Earle  ? .  To  be  more  honest,  how  I  long 
to  force  Percy  to  turn  from  Lou  Allison  and  see 
what  a  girl  he  is  making  wretched!  Ten  years 
younger,  twice  as  pretty,  a  thousand  times  more 
gifted  and  refined!  Oh,  besides  all  its  glorious 
attributes,  Love  is,  in  a  case  like  Percy's,  not 
merely  blind,  as  the  proverb  has  it,  but  deaf, 
dumb  and  imbecile! 


February.  297 

Browner  and  browner  grew  the  study  into 
which  I  had  sunk.  How  had  I  ever  been  care- 
less and  happy,  as  they  say  in  Graytown,  from 
"sun-up  to  sun-down?"  There  were  tragedies 
in  the  world  then,  miseries,  deceits,  heart-aches, 
disgraces,  and  I  floated  through  a  cloudless  ether 
of  ignorance  and  unconcern,  pitying  no  one,  help- 
ing no  one,  half  unconscious  that  I  possessed  a 
soul.  Is  it  because  I  am  so  horribly  unspiritual 
that  the  awakening  to  the  truths  of  life  brings 
such  despair?  Jack  has  patiently  reasoned  with 
me  against  a  habit  of  morbidness,  saying  that 
in  my  secluded  and  guarded  life  at  home,  I  was 
wholly  ignorant  of  the  wide  possibility  that  most 
people  have  heart-histories  which,  although  not 
dead,  are  scrupulously  and  persistently  held  down 
alive  in  their  graves  by  their  owners. 

And  now  Mr.  Allison !  Would  I  again  hear 
jests  about  my  friendship  for  him?  Oh,  I  could 
not  stand  it !  And  I  would  not !  They  had 
criticised  me,  ridiculed  me,  made  it  hard  for  me 
in  every  conceivable  way,  these  New  York  women 
who  did  not  care  to  welcome  the  unknown,  penni- 
less country-girl  into  their  midst.  The  first  hard 
experience  over,  I  could  bear  nearly  everything 
of  this  nature,  because  I  realized  who  I  was,  and 
who  were  many  of  my  persecutors.  But  scandal ! 
No,  I  should  die,  if  women  giggled  and  men 
shrugged  their  shoulders  when  I  entered  a  room. 


298  Dainty  Devils. 

Once,  in  a  little  inn  upon  the  Rhine,  I  came  across 
a  small  devotional  book  in  French,  the  first  chap- 
ter of  which  discoursed  eloquently  upon  "  Human 
Respect."  It  was  immensely  clever  in  a  delicious- 
ly  naive  way,  as  are  so  many  little  pious  French 
books ;  and  engulfed  in  miserable  thoughts 
as  I  was,  I  vividly  recalled  some  paragraphs 
about  "  the  power  to  change  our  ideas,  endeavors 
and  actions,  in  even  the  unspoken,  and  ought-to- 
be-unknown,  opinions  of  neighbors  and  acquaint- 
ances." At  the  time  I  pictured  the  volume  in 
the  course  of  composition  on  the  worn  old  desk  of 
some  Monsieur  le  Cure,  whose  saintly  calm  had 
been  frequently  jarred  by  the  gossipings  and  back- 
bitings  of  Monsieur  le  Boulanger  and  Monsieur 
le  Cordonnier,  by  the  petty  cheating  and  huge  in- 
dignation of  Madame  la  Blanchisseuse  and  Ma- 
demoiselle la  Couturicre.  My  own  recently  ac- 
quired experience  as  to  the  dread  of  the  scath- 
ing cruelty  and  injustice  of  public  opinion,  made 
me  yield  a  mournful  acquaintance  to  the  views 
so  cleverly  put  forward  by  the  earnest  Cure. 
Strange  that  the  lonely  man  in  his  restricted 
sphere  of  village  pastor,  so  successfully  expressed 
the  thoughts  which  New  York  itself  evokes! 
Ah,  human  nature! — What  is  it  but  the  weak- 
nesses and  strength,  the  limitations  and  capa- 
bilities comon  to  all?  No  doubt,  Monsieur  le 
Cure  had  abundance  of  human  nature  to  deal 


February.  299 

with  among  his  simple,  unambitious,  grubbing 
parishoners.  And  the  whole  world  is  still  kin. 

As  the  afternoon  waned,  brighter  possibilities 
filtered  through  the  murky  clouds  of  my  thoughts. 
Lou  was  half-crazy.  She  had  taken  that  repre- 
hensible high-ball.  I  could  not  believe  that  she 
meant  to  hint  anything  unpleasant.  Impossible 
that  anyone  should  consider  me  a  flirt. 

Perhaps  too,  all  that  scare  she  gave  me  about 
law,  had  its  origin  in  the  same  alcoholic  beverage. 
Jack  told  me  long  ago  that  neither  Lou  nor  Belle 
owns  any  real  estate,  and  I  am  sure  there  are  no 
wills  being  contested  in  the  family.  There  is  no 
reason  for  Lou  being  at  law  about  anything  under 
the  sun. 

I  believe  that  high-balls,  if  permissible  at  all, 

should  be  relegated  exclusively  to  strong  men. 
******* 

There  are  more  matters  than  a  guilty  con- 
science which  at  times  give  one  a  horror  of  being 
alone.  Not  that  my  conscience  is  blameless,  only 
I  fail  to  find  it  very  rebellious,  alone  or  other- 
wise. It  may  be  that  it  is  one  of  the  convenient 
kind  that  "still  sleep".  Nothing  but  restless- 
ness made  the  house  unbearable  yesterday.  I 
could  not  stay  alone  without  screaming,  nor 
would  I  see  anyone  I  disliked.  Marion  saved 
the  situation.  Quite  wrought-up  and  desperate, 
I  walked  down  to  her  house,  feeling  that  if  she 


3oo  Dainty  Devils. 

were  out,  there  was  no  telling  what  I  might  do 
next. 

She  was  at  home,  the  maid  said,  hesitatingly. 
Where  ? — Upstairs  with  Mrs.  LaGrange,  who  had 
a  severe  headache.  I  stepped  past  the  deliberat- 
ing servant  and  went  directly  to  Marion's  room ; 
she  was  not  there.  Going  back  one  flight  of 
stairs,  I  knocked  at  Mrs.  LaGrange's  door.  No 
one  answered  in  words,  but  there  was  a  rustle 
of  skirts,  and  Marion  gently  opened  the  door. 

"  Is  it  you,  Dot  ?"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Come  in.  You  won't  mind,  mother?  " 

Mrs.  LaGrange  lay  upon  the  couch,  her  eyes 
glazed  with  pain.  Marion  had  bound  a  com- 
press across  her  mother's  forehead,  and  held  a 
vinaigrette  in  one  hand,  while  she  unfastened  my 
jacket  without  speaking.  Did  they  always  take 
headaches  so  seriously  at  LaGranges'  ? 

"  I'm  so  sorry  you're  ill,"  I  began,  feelingly. 

"  I'm  not  ill,  dear,"  Mrs.  LaGrange  interrupted. 
"  Tell  her,  Marion." 

Alarmed  I  turned  quickly  to  Marion. 

"  What  has  happened  ? — Why  didn't  you  send 
me  word  ?  " 

"  It  has  just  happened — scarcely  half-an-hour 
ago.  It's  a  letter  from  Neddie." 

Marion's  voice  was  very  cold. 

"  Has  he  gone  home  ?  "  I  asked,  knowing  very 
well  he  had  not. 


February.  301 

"  No — He's  gone  to  Canada,  probably." 

Marion  had  a  basin  of  ice  on  a  table.  She 
went  to  it,  wrung  out  a  fresh  compress,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  change  the  application  on  her  mother's 
head.  Mrs.  LaGrange  moaned  faintly,  as  she 
turned  her  face  toward  her  daughter. 

"  Yes,  you're  suffering  for  that  foolish  boy," 
Marion  replied  to  the  moan,  in  the  same  unim- 
passioned  manner.  "  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  that, 
mother." 

"  He's  young,"  said  Mrs.  LaGrange,  faintly 
and  pleadingly,  "  and  he  wasn't  strong  enough 
to  resist  bad  example." 

"  He  shouldn't  have  broken  your  heart.  The 
ingratitude  is  shameful.  Won't  you  show  Dot 
the  letter,  mother  ?  " 

Mrs.  LaGrange  drew  her  hand  from  under 
the  worsted  rug  Marion  had  wrapped  about  her. 
I  leaned  forward  and  took  the  sheet  of  paper 
curiously.  It  read : 

"  MY  DEAR  COUSIN  : 

It  may  seem  strange  to 

you  that  I  write  to  beg  forgiveness  for  an  act 
which  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  acknowledge.  I 
have  for  some  time  been  unworthy  of  the  kind- 
ness and  great  interest  that  you  and  Marion  have 
showered  upon  me.  There  can  be  no  excuse; 
that  I  fully  understand,  but  I  beg  you  to  believe 


3O2  Dainty  Devils. 

that  in  the  last  few  weeks  I  have  continued  to 
play  cards  in  the  desperate  hope  that  one  day 
my  luck  would  change,  and  I  should  be  able  to 
clear  myself  of  the  debts  I  have  so  unfortunately 
contracted. 

The  confession  which  it  half  kills  me  to  make 
to  you,  is  that  I  have  used  fifteen  hundred  dol- 
lars of  the  bank's  money,  besides  having  bor- 
rowed from  a  number  of  your  personal  friends. 
Although  I  am  leaving  the  city  like  a  thief,  will 
you  try  to  pardon  me  and  believe  that  I  shall 
go  somewhere  and  work  hard  until  the  money 
I  have  squandered,  yes  and  stolen,  has  been  re- 
turned? I  shall  write  the  pitiful  truth  to  my 
poor  mother,  and  all  I  can  say  to  her,  as  well 
as  to  you,  is  that  I  have  been  undeserving  of  the 
favors  I  have  received. 

With  bitter  regret  for  my  faults  and  failings, 
believe  me  still,  my  dear  cousin, 

Gratefully  and  humbly, 

EDWARD  LAWRENCE." 

Awe-struck,  I  glanced  from  Mrs.  LaGrange  to 
Marion,  and  back  again  to  Mrs.  LaGrange. 

"Does  it  mean  he  has  actually  stolen?"  I 
asked. 

Mrs.  LaGrange  quivered  at  the  word. 

"  They  call  it  defaulting,"  said  Marion.    "  The 


February.  303 

suffering  for  mother  is  the  same,  whatever  the 
name." 

"  Oh,  Marion,  don't ! "  said  the  mother. 
"  Have  a  little  pity.  He  is  hardly  more  than  a 
child.  You  have  acted  so  queerly  ever  since  the 
note  came." 

Marion  was  outraged  in  what  was,  next  to  her 
love  for  Percy,  her  strongest  feeling:  -her  devo- 
tion to  her  mother ;  and  her  nature  resented  the 
action  that  brought  pain  to  Mrs.  LaGrange,  in 
a  stronger  manner  than  most  people  would  have 
believed  possible  for  her. 

"  Some  are  born  criminals,  some  attain  crimi- 
nality, some  have  criminality  thrust  upon  them," 
the  girl  went  on  in  a  hard  voice.  "  The  last  is 
Neddie,  I  fancy." 

Her  eyes  met  mine.  In  spite  of  outward  cold- 
ness, a  great  heart-sickness  was  within.  By  some 
undefined  sympathy,  I  knew  she  was  regretting 
having  given  Lawrence  money  to  settle  his  debts. 
I  recalled  the  scene  at  the  Mission-room,  and 
anger  overcame  my  better  judgment. 

"  Mrs.  Robertson  is  the  one  who  should  suffer 
for  this,"  I  cried.  "  She  taught  him  to  drink 
and  to  gamble." 

"  Yes ;  "  added  Marion,  "  she  did." 

"  Don't,  children,  don't !  "  Mrs.  LaGrange 
pressed  her  hands  against  her  forehead  distract- 
edly. "  I  am  the  one  to  blame ;  I  should  have 


304  Dainty  Devils. 

brought  him  here  to  live.  Oh,  I  did  wrong  to 
let  him  have  rooms  where  I  could  not  control 
him !  " 

"  He  would  have  been  the  same,  mother.  He'd 
have  met  the  same  people."  Marion's  tone  was 
more  judicial  than  soothing. 

"  But  you  could  have  restrained  him,  Marion," 
reasoned  the  mother,  relentlessly  arguing  her  own 
condemnation.  "  And  I  confess  I  didn't  bring 
him  here  because  I  was  afraid  he  would  fall  in 
love  with  you !  Oh,  I'm  punished  for  my  mater- 
nal vanity  and  conceit!  And  now  what  shall  I 
say  to  his  mother?  What  account  can  I  give  of 
the  responsibility  I  undertook  ? "  Mrs.  La- 
Grange's  face  contracted  with  physical  and  men- 
tal pain. 

"  Hush,  mother !  You  must  not  speak  so. 
You  are  not  to  blame.  It's  the  wretchedness  into 
which  society  is  degenerating — above  all  the 
women.  If  there  were  only  a  few  more  like 
you!" 

Marion  knelt  down  and  tenderly  stroked  her 
mother's  cheek,  her  own  face  beginning  to  trem- 
ble, and  her  unnatural  constraint  giving  way. 
The  great  resemblance  in  the  two  faces  shows 
most  strikingly  when  they  are  brought  closely 
together,  particularly  since  Marion  has  begun  to 
look  so  much  older.  Snow-white  hair  would 
make  Marion  her  mother's  counterpart;  and  she 


February.  305 

will  have  it  while  young.  There  are  already  a 
few  stray  white  threads  in  her  coal-black  hair. 
As  mother  and  daughter  clung  to  each  other  in 
sorrow  and  affliction,  I  felt  dreadfully  outside  and 
forgotten. 

"  But  I'm  not  so  easy  to  fall  in  love  with/' 
Marion  supplemented  after  a  while,  struggling 
to  overcome  the  grief  to  which  she  had  almost 
succumbed.  "  On  that  score  you  might  safely 
risk  a  whole  University  of  boys !  " 

"  Don't  try  to  jest,  Marion.  It's  too  ghastly. 
My  poor  child,  what  will  you  do  when  the  papers 
print  the  story  in  the  morning?"  Mrs.  La- 
Grange's  mouth  quivered,  and  she  drew  Marion 
tightly  to  her,  as  if  she  were  a  small  child  to 
be  protected  from  bodily  harm.  "  To  think  that 
misery  and  disgrace  must  come  to  you  through  a 
member  of  my  family  !  My  dear  daughter !  " 

"  I  don't  mind  anything  so  long  as  I  have  you," 
Marion  declared,  swallowing  hard.  "  Nothing 
whatever.  Only  get  over  this  dreadful  headache, 
and  be  well,  and  I  shall  bother  about  nothing 
else." 

"  You  are  trying  to  feel  that  way,  Marion, 
I  know.  But  it  is  all  very  dreadful,  and  it  will 
always  remain  my  fault."  The  big  tears  rolled 
down  Mrs.  LaGrange's  colorless  cheeks.  With 
the  bursting  of  a  great  sob,  Marion  slipped  for- 
ward and  hid  her  face  in  her  mother's  shoulder. 

20 


306  Dainty  Devils. 

I  tip-toed  out  of  the  room,  leaving  Marion 
and  her  mother  weeping  together.  And  up  in 
the  country  there  was  another  mother  who  would 
be  crushed  almost  unto  death  under  the  blow  of  a 
son's  disgrace.  I  know  and  understand  the  harsh 
and  frank  way  in  which  such  sins  are  regarded 
in  little,  old-fashioned  places,  where  everyone 
knows  everybody  else.  The  mother  would  not 
condemn  him.  Mrs.  LaGrange,  who  was  only 
some  one  else's  mother,  had  not  done  that. 
But  the  agony  would  be  all  the  greater  because 
no  salutary  anger  and  indignation  would  stay  the 
flow  of  the  bitter  water  of  unmitigated  sorrow. 

Sadly  enough  I  let  myself  out  of  the  house.. 
The  day  was  very  cold,  and  out  of  doors  most 
uninviting.  That  is  one  of  the  ways  in  which  the 
city  is  so  different  from  the  country.  In  Gray- 
town  when  one  felt  excited  or  angry  or  blue — 
or  when  anything  important  happened,  like  a 
death,  for  instance — one  went  out  of  the  house  to 
breathe  and  feel  better ;  and  the  action  was  con- 
sidered natural  and  proper,  because  one's  front- 
yard  and  back-yard  are  as  much  one's  property 
as  the  house  itself.  In  New  York  it  is  danger- 
ous to  go  to  the  window ;  people  might  think  the 
house  was  on  fire  and  that  a  policeman  was 
wanted  to  turn  in  an  alarm.  And  as  for  going 
into  the  streets  for  rest  and  relief — the  stones 
would  cry  out :  "  This  is  a  public  thoroughfare 


February.  307 

and  public  property — Go  back  where  you  be- 
long "  Oh,  how  delightful  it  is  to  own  a  little 
out-doors,  although  the  little  is  not  bigger  than 
dear  father's  front-yard  in  Graytown ! 

I  was  plodding  wearily  along  against  the  wind 
when  at  the  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue  I  almost 
stumbled  against  Percy  Earle.  He  exclaimed  in 
surprise  as  he  recognized  me : 

"  Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Woodward  ? 
Have  you  heard  the  news?  No? — Jack's  all 
right.  But  Robertson's  lost  heavily." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  I  stopped  where  I 
was,  greatly  alarmed  by  Percy's  face. 

"  The  worst  panic  the  '  Street '  has  ever 
known.  May  I  walk  up  with  you?  Thank  you. 
I'm  on  my  way  to  see  Jack,  if  he  has  left  his 
office.  Robertsons'  about  wiped  out,  unless  he 
has  more  back  of  him  than  people  think." 

"  What  was  it  ?  Can't  you  tell  me  ?  Jack 
says  I'm  not  so  stupid."  I  was  hurriedly  calling 
upon  my  memory  for  terms  used  on  the  "  Street." 

"  Do  you  know  what  a  '  corner  '  is  ?  Well, 
they  had  a  corner  in  Criss-Cross  and  forced  the 
shorts.  It  was  desperate,  I  tell  you.  By  the  way, 
have  I  a  collar  on  ?  " 

I  obediently  looked  up  at  Percy's  neck.  Yes, 
he  had  a  collar — rumpled,  and  not  at  all  like 
Percy's  collars  as  I  knew  them — but  his  tie  was 


308  Dainty  Devils. 

gone.  He  smiled  apologetically,  and  I  suddenly 
noticed  how  worn  his  face  was. 

"  Did  you  lose,  Mr.  Earle  ?  "  I  anxiously  asked. 

"  Not  a  great  deal.  And  Van  Voort  was  in 
on  Criss-Cross  all  right.  They  say  Mrs.  Robert- 
son's mother  had  two  thousand  shares.  I'll  wager 
she  did,  but  that  won't  help  Robertson  any. 
Odd,  isn't  it,  that  her  mind  is  so  clear  upon 
business,  and  so  muddled  about  everything  else? 
Her  miserliness  is  a  kind  of  insanity;  her  own 
daughter  might  starve  before  she  would  part 
with  a  dollar." 

"  Are  the  Robertsons  ruined  ?  "  My  mind  re- 
fused to  accept  the  idea.  How  could  such  a 
lot  of  money  disappear  in  a  day? 

"  Yes,  unless  Robertson  has  something  in  his 
wife's  name.  I  know  nothing  about  her  side  of 
the  affair." 

Percy  was  cheerful  enough,  although  dread- 
fully excited,  and  he  had  no  idea  how  fast  he 
was  walking.  Between  struggling  to  keep  up 
with  his  rapid  gait,  and  the  disagreeable  wind 
which  was  blowing  straight  at  us  across  the  Park, 
I  was  breathless  when  we  reached  home.  We 
entered  the  house  from  out  of  a  kind  of  gale. 

"  Hello !  " 

Jack  had  been  only  a  few  minutes  ahead  of 
us.  He  was  still  in  the  hall,  and  he  turned  to 
me  a  pale  and  weary  face. 


February.  309 

"  Jack,"  I  gasped,  catching  hold  of  him,  "  are 
you  really  all  right  in  spite  of  the  '  corner '  ?  " 

"  Yes,  little  one.  What  has  Percy  been  tell- 
ing you?  Come  into  the  library,  old  chap.  It's 
mighty  rough  on  Robertson,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  so.  Brompton  told  me  the  old 
man  grew  desperate.  He  couldn't  have  been  as 
rich  as  people  thought." 

"  Are  you  not  hit  at  all  ?  "  Jack's  anxiety  for 
Percy  pleased  me. 

"  Hardly.    Thank  the  fates !  " 

The  bell  rang  sharply.  I  sprang  up,  fancying 
an  unwelcome  caller:  for  I  still  had  my  hat  and 
gloves  on,  and  was  altogether  in  need  of  Per- 
kins's ministrations.  The  man  brought  in  a  note 
for  Jack.  I  sank  back  relieved,  till  a  heavy  frown 
gathered  upon  Jack's  forehead. 

"  It's  from  Robertson,  Dot.  Would  you  mind 
if  I  didn't  get  back  for  dinner  ?  " 

I  pouted.  It  was  impossible  for  me  to  com- 
prehend that  the  Robertsons  were  in  real  trouble, 
and  I  was  not  so  fond  of  them  that  I  would  will- 
ingly allow  Jack  to  go  to  them  and  leave  me  to 
a  spoiled  and  lonely  evening. 

Percy  laughed  lightly. 

"  Be  good,  Mrs.  Woodward.  Poor  Robertson 
is  in  hard  straits,  and  Jack  is  the  only  man  on 
earth  he  trusts." 


3io  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Very  well,"  I  said,  grudgingly.  "  And  I  sup- 
pose you'll  go  too,  Mr.  Earle  ?  " 

"  Extra !  Re'ad  the  Extra !  Terrible  panic  in 
Wall  Street!  Extra-a!" 

The  shouts  of  tramps  with  special  editions  of 
the  evening  papers — and  it  always  seems  to  me 
that  these  Extras  are  special  dispensations  for 
the  benefit  of  these  tramps — broke  hoarsely  in 
upon  us. 

"  It  seems  uncanny,"  I  said,  nervously.  "  And 
how  grewsome  the  trees  look  shaking  in  the 
dark ! " 

Percy  promptly  drew  down  the  shade  of  the 
window  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  Park. 
A  servant  entered  and  turned  on  the  lights.  We 
sat  silent  for  a  minute  or  two;  Jack  and  Percy 
very  HIcely  going  on  with  some  of  the  lightning 
calculations  they  had  worn  themselves  out  with 
all  day,  and  I  wondering  how  Mrs.  Robertson, 
poor,  would  impress  me.  The  stillness  was 
broken  by  Percy  apologizingly  asking  Jack  for 
a  tie.  Five  minutes  later,  the  two  men  left  the 
house  together,  while  I  heartily  wished  that  I 
might  go  with  them. 

Disspiritedly  I  started  upstairs,  and  at  that  mo- 
ment the  bell  rang.  I  paused  expectantly.  An- 
other note — this  time  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood- 
ward. I  tore  it  open  upon  the  stairs. 

"  Mrs.  Alexander  Robertson  begs  to  announce 


February.  311 

that  owing  to  her  serious  indisposition,  her  ball 
will  be  postponed  from  to-night  to  three  weeks 
hence." 

The  communication  brought  the  recollection  to 
my  mind  that  upon  this  evening  Mrs.  Robertson 
was  to  have  given  the  ball  of  the  season  at  the 
Waldorf-Astoria.  In  the  last  few  days  I  had 
entirely  forgotten  the  momentous  invitation. 

"  Jiminy !  "  I  breathed,  the  situation  beginning 
to  dawn  upon  me.  That  expression  was  a  relic 
of  my  barbarous,  blissful  days  at  home  in  Gray- 
town.  As  I  proceeded  to  my  room,  I  earnestly 
hoped  the  servant  had  not  heard  it. 

Jack  returned  in  two  hours.  I  was  at  the 
table,  and  he  came  in  saying  he  was  starved. 

"  You  look  it,"  I  said,  sympathetically.  "  How 
are  they,  Jack  ?  " 

Jack  unfolded  his  napkin  deliberately. 

"  Apres,"  said  he,  quietly. 

So  I  had  to  wait  until  we  were  alone.  Then 
I  heard  all  the  news  condensed  and  to  the  point. 
Robertson  was  practically  penniless ;  Mrs.  Rob- 
ertson had  for  years  been  living  beyond  their 
income  and  had,  unknown  to  her  husband,  heavily 
mortgaged  the  sumptuous  house,  which  had 
been  his  wedding-gift  to  her. 

"  Jack !  "  I  cried,  excitedly. 

"Well?" 


312  Dainty  Devils. 

"  She's  used  her  gambling  gains  to  pay  the 
interest  on  the  mortgage !  " 

"  Exactly.  You're  growing  apt.  Only  the 
last  interest  was  never  paid.  She  is  in  debt  every- 
where— including  thousands  for  diamonds." 

"What  will  they  do?"  I  asked,  appalled. 

"  It  was  a  hideous  scene,  Dot  dear.  Mrs. 
Robertson  is  leaving  on  the  nine  o'clock  train  for 
Maine." 

"  Not  to  go  to  that  awful  mother  ? "  I  was 
more  appalled  than  ever.  What  a  fate  she  had 
dared ! 

"  She  has  no  choice,  while  Robertson  remains 
in  the  rage  he's  in  now.  Bad  as  she  is,  I  pity 
her  when  she  reaches  her  mother." 

Neddie  Lawrence  darted  suddenly  into  my 
seething  brain,  and  with  him  the  picture  of  Mrs. 
LaGrange  and  Marion  in  their  despair. 

"  I  don't  pity  her,"  I  said,  savagely. 

Jack  smiled  indulgently. 

"  You  always  did  seem  to  dislike  her  uncom- 
monly." 

"  I'm  glad  I  did,"  I  continued,  warmly.  "  Wait 
till  you  read  about  Neddie  Lawrence  to-morrow ! 
It's  worse  than  the  panic,  for  Marion  and  her 
mother  are  heart-broken.  Jack,  he  has  stolen 
from  the  bank !  " 

Jack  almost  pushed  me  away  from  him. 

"  Dot !  "  he  cried  sternly,  "  are  you  sure  ?  " 


February.  313 

"  I  saw  it  in  his  own  handwriting." 

"  The  devil !  "  said  Jack,  unfortunately  break- 
ing his  record  of  which  I  had  been  so  proud. 

"  Yes,  the  devil  with  poker  and  whiskey  as 
baits,"  I  hastily  said,  not  wanting  Jack  to  know 
that  I  took  the  exclamation  as  a  swear.  But  he 
went  on,  terribly,  awfully,  frightfully: 

"  It's  a  damned  shame !  " 

And  I  could  not  cover  that  up,  could  I  ?  Jack 
is,  in  spite  of  all  his  perfections  and  high-mind- 
edness,  mere  man  after  all,  and  even  his  theories 
go  to  pieces  once  in  a  while,  when  too  great  a 
strain  is  put  upon  them. 

I  should  not  want  him  to  be  quite  an  angel, 
even  though  opposites  do  attract — Really,  I  am 
not  wicked  enough  to  need  a  genuine  angel  to 
live  with  me.  Jack  suits  me  as  he  is — Mostly 
very  good,  and  slightly — a  little  naughty.  The 
conclusion  is  apparent. 


Neddie's  escapade  received  only  a  small  notice 
in  print.  The  panic  was  too  enormous,  too  far- 
reaching  not  to  overshadow  any  little  individual 
case  of  a  blackened  name  and  a  few  broken 
hearts.  Mrs.  LaGrange  is  ill  from  the  shock  and 
disgrace.  Marion  finds  compensation,  as  always, 
in  rescuing  wrecks  of  humanity  out  of  the  slums. 
She  looks  more  unhealthily  pious  than  ever,  and 


314  Dainty  Devils. 

I  begin  to  be  slightly  tainted  with  Jack's  belief 
in  her  ultimate  retirement  into  a  Sisterhood. 

I  read  over  some  of  these  pages  the  other  day. 
They  are  a  queer  record  of  gay  society !  Almost 
all  the  people  I  know  belong  to  those  who  are 
chronically  busy  enjoying  themselves.  Why  then, 
in  the  name  of  reason,  are  they  so  conspicuously 
innocent  of  a  good  time  ?  Dancing  and  big  bills 
and  betting  and  noise  do  not  seem,  in  the  aggre- 
gate, to  amount  to  such  very  undiluted  happiness. 
Common  sense  whispers  to  me  that  the  latter  is 

made  up  of  different  ingredients. 

******* 

Where  shall  I  begin  and  how  shall  I  express 
the  chaos  of  thought  in  which  I  seem  to  lie  half- 
stunned  ? 

It  was  yesterday  morning,  yes,  only  yesterday 
morning,  that  Lou  sent  me  this  note : 

"  Dearest  Dot,  come  stay  all  day  with  me. 
Belle  is  under  the  weather  and  I  am  very  de- 
spondent. LONELY  Lou." 

Jack  had  gone,  and  I  had  no  definite  engage- 
ment until  evening,  when  I,  as  well  as  Lou  and 
Belle  and  all  of  us,  would  go  to  the  Mardi  Gras 
at  Sherry's.  Last  week,  the  day  she  was  feeling 
so  blue,  Lou  telephoned  for  Percy  Earle.  My 
heart  fluttered  happily  at  the  gratifying  thought 


February.  315 

that  she  was  reforming,  and  I  was  the  proper 
substitute  for  her  usual  guest  when  she  needed 
consolation. 

Jubilantly  I  made  my  way  down  to  the  Allison 
house — swinging  along  Fifth  Avenue  at  a  rate 
I  have  rarely  indulged  in  since  I  left  Graytown. 
In  the  morning  throng  I  did  not  meet  a  familiar 
face  until  I  reached  the  Waldorf,  when  Mr.  Van 
Voort  came  sauntering  along  in  indolent  leisure, 
smoking  by  fits  and  starts.  He  stopped  and  per- 
force, I  gave  him  my  hand.  We  do  not  agree 
with  one  another  any  better  than  we  ever  did; 
he  is  too  monumental  a  moneyed  nonentity,  and 
I  suppose  on  the  other  hand  I  am  too  raw  a  re- 
cruit from  pinching  poverty. 

"  Where  so  early,  my  dear  Mrs.  Woodward  ?  " 

Oh,  what  a  disfiguring  grin !  Inwardly,  I  re- 
sented the  "  my  dear  "  and  answered  as  I  started 
off: 

"  To  Allisons'." 

"  Oh !  "  A  light  exclamation,  but  a  trenchant 
laugh. 

Involuntarily  I  paused  again  for  a  second.  Mr. 
Van  Voort  was  in  the  act  of  lifting  his  hat,  and 
his  grin  had  spread,  I  believe,  almost  to  the  back 
of  his  head. 

Flushing  as  broadly  as  he  grinned,  and  mutter- 
ing a  ferocious  "  Good-morning  "  back  at  him, 
I  hastily  resumed  my  walk,  all  pleasure,  all  spirit, 


316  Dainty  Devils. 

except  an  evil  one,  knocked  out  of  me.  Lou  had 
jested,  and  that  idiotic  Van  Voort  had  chuckled. 
What  would  come  next  ?  Although  almost  every- 
one I  knew  lived  in  a  glass  house,  all  without 
exceptions  were  throwing  stones,  and  the  break- 
ing of  the  crystal  was  maddening. 

Lou  welcomed  me  very  sweetly.  She  was  got- 
ten up  in  a  street-gown,  for  her  a  strange  pro- 
ceeding in  the  morning,  and  she  talked  and  acted 
more  gently  than  ever  before  in  our  acquaintance. 
Yes,  it  must  be  that  Lou  was  reforming.  How 
beautiful  if  I  had  been  the  instrument ! — And  why 
not?  Was  it  an  impossibility  for  me  to  be  of 
any  use  in  the  world?  Might  I  not  bring  Lou 
at  least  to  the  point  of  giving  up  Percy,  and 
then  would  not  my  Marion  win  the  boy?  Percy 
was  impressionable,  young  compared  with  my 
Jack,  and  very  unformed  in  character.  Probably 
this  pitiable  affair  with  Lou  would  prove  to  be 
the  folly  of  a  first  fancy,  which  would  shrivel  up 
in  self-mortification  as  soon  as  actual  love  claimed 
him. 

"  I  suppose  you  want  to  see  Belle  a  few 
minutes  ? "  Lou  was  saying.  I  had  not  been 
listening  very  attentively. 

"Yes;  is  she  in  bed?" 

"  No ;  only  lying  on  the  couch."  Lou  dropped 
her  voice.  "  She  is  killing  herself  with  morphine, 
poor  girl." 


February.  317 

"  Can't  you  prevent  it  ?  " 

"  No,  not  here.  Perhaps,"  a  peculiar  smile  lit 
Lou's  face,  a  dreamy,  slowly-growing  smile,  "  I 
shall  take  her  to  Italy  next  month.  March  will 
be  bad  for  her  in  New  York." 

"  It  certainly  will.  Jack  says  it  will  be  hard 
even  for  me." 

"  Don't  say  Belle  looks  ill,"  warned  Lou  at  the 
door. 

Truly  Lou  was  becoming  thoughtful.  I  had 
always  liked  her,  and  now  she  was  revealing  how 
much  good  was  in  her. 

Belle  in  a  trailing  white  tea-gown,  lay  with 
closed  eyes  upon  the  couch.  I  could  not  say  she 
looked  ill.  Her  cheeks  had  regained  their  plump- 
ness, and  a  bright  pink  glowed  in  them.  When 
I  kissed  her  I  discovered  they  were  burning  hot. 
She  opened  her  eyes  lazily,  and  I  noted  her  pupils 
contracted  to  the  size  of  a  pin-point. 

"  Oh,  Dot,"  she  said,  drowsily,  "  how  are  you? 
We  talk  of  going  to  Europe  next  month.  I 
might  die  here,  you  know." 

She  smiled  a  meaningless,  joyless  smile,  nega- 
tively content  because  she  was  drugged,  poisoned, 
intoxicated.  An  odd  uncertainty  troubled  her 
tongue  and  lips,  and  the  latter  were  swollen  and 
expressionless. 

"  Lou,"  I  said,  hurriedly,  "  we'll  go  down  and 
let  Belle  sleep/' 


3i8  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Yes,  let  me  sleep." 

Belle's  eyes  closed  again.  Lou  shook  her  head, 
anxiety  and  pity  in  her  countenance. 

"  Oh,  Lou,"  I  whispered  on  the  stairs,  "  you 
must  make  her  stop !  She's  in  an  awful  state." 

"  I  know  it.  She  gets  the  stuff  no  matter  how. 
She  hasn't  been  out  for  a  week,  and  I  found 
a  big  bottle  of  laudanum  in  the  mattress  of  her 
bed  to-day." 

"  Where  on  earth  did  she  get  it  ?  " 

"  There  is  only  one  possibility — She  bribes  the 
maid,  Annie." 

"  She  would  stoop  to  that  ?  "  I  asked,  incred- 
ulously. 

Lou  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  A  morphine-fiend  has  already  stooped  so  far, 
my  dear,  that  another  dip  or  two  won't  signify." 

Lou's  dignified  condemnation  of  her  sister's 
failing  was  very  touching.  I  cuddled  up  to  her 
in  affectionate  and  admiring  sympathy,  as  we 
returned  to  our  favorite  divan  in  her  small  draw- 
ing-room. Belle  seemed  gone  beyond  redemp- 
tion, and  I  was  so  glad — very  selfishly  and  igno- 
bly, of  course — that  I  had  never  been  fond  of 
her.  My  friend,  Lou,  was  developing  into  a 
sweet  and  resigned  woman,  and  I  began  to 
hope  that  all  the  tangles  about  me  were  to  be 
undone,  so  that  the  beautiful  pattern  of  my  life 
as  Jack's  wife  could  go  on  weaving  itself 


February.  319 

into  smooth  and  brilliant  perfection.  It  was  very 
humiliating  to  have  found  myself  so  dense  and 
dull  in  comprehending  the  personalities  about 
me.  Why  was  it  that  often,  mostly  on  a  windless, 
cloudy  day,  and  in  some  lonely  bit  of  country, 
I  could  see  and  hear  the  people  of  hundreds  of 
years  ago  passing,  riding  and  afoot,  laughing, 
talking,  animate  as  I  myself?  In  Germany  I 
could  see  the  wild  barons  in  their  suits  of 
mail  go  clattering  up  the  rocky  paths  to  their 
stern,  threatening  castles ;  in  France  and  Eng- 
land, watch  the  worn-out  pilgrims  returning  from 
the  Holy  Land.  These  creatures  of  a  far-off  time 
for  a  moment  I  knew  and  understood,  and 
pitied  or  dreaded  or  admired.  When  the  vision 
left  my  mind  and  I  stood  beside  Jack  in  the 
present,  I  drew  a  quick  breath  and  felt  oddly 
lonely,  staring  at  the  dusty  road  and  motionless 
leaves.  At  Heidelberg,  in  the  comfortless  room 
in  the  crumbling  Schloss,  where  in  the  old  days 
pages  waited  for  their  lords'  behests,  I  had  seen 
the  ruddy  faces  of  the  saucy  boys,  had  heard 
their  gibes  and  laughter,  had  watched  them  tussle 
and  tease  and  bet,  all  under  their  breath, 
as  it  were,  because  the  masters  were  near  by. 
Yes,  I  was  nearer  these  dead  and  buried  ones 
than  to  the  complicated  productions  of  modern 
civilization  which  had  bombarded — and  most  suc- 
cessively— my  wits  in  New  York.  Marion  had 


32O  Dainty  Devils. 

remained  my  single  solace;  now  I  should  find  in 
Lou  another  preventitive  of  complete  disgust  with 
that  congregation  of  self-satisfied,  but — if  one 
considers  the  unrest — never  self-sufficient,  people 
dubbed,  "  Society." 

Lou  had  a  small  work-bag  hanging  upon  her 
left  arm.  I  had  never  seen  her  divert  herself 
with  fancy-work,  and  was  immensely  astonished 
when  she  pulled  out  the  beginnings  of  a  steel- 
bead  purse  and  began  to  crochet.  She  looked, 
outside  her  piquant,  American  face,  like  a 
proper  Herr  Lieutenant's  wife  doing  her  after- 
noon's quota  at  a  Cafe  Cesellschaft  in  some  gar- 
rison-town in  Germany. 

"  Odd,  Dot,  isn't  it,  how  men  like  to  see  women 
employ  their  fingers  ?  " 

She  smiled  at  me,  as  I  watched  her  in  guilty 
idleness,  and  wished  I  had  brought  some  of  the 
handkerchiefs  I  am  monogramming  for  Jack. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  certain  that  Allison  had 
given  her  the  hint,  "  they  think  needlework  very 
feminine  and  becoming." 

"  Even,"  she  continued,  "  if  they  have  no  idea 
to  what  end  the  exertion  is  put  forth." 

I  studied  her  closely.  She  was  composed  in  a 
gracious,  womanly  way,  very  different  from  her 
habitual  flippancy. 

"  Lou,"  I  said,  earnestly,  "  you're  changed, 
aren't  you  ? " 


February.  321 

"  Not  in  the  least."  She  missed  a  bead  and 
poked  for  it. 

"  You're  mistaken,  dear ;  I  like  you  better  than 
ever  to-day." 

"  Do  you  ?  How  funny !  Wouldn't  you  like 
to  play  to  me  until  luncheon  is  announced  ?  " 

A  strange  blush  flooded  Lou's  calm  pallor. 
For  the  first  time  during  the  morning,  her  man- 
ner was  forced,  patently  insincere,  coldly  forbid- 
ding of  confidences.  Like  a  rebuked  child  I  rose 
without  a  word  and  went  to  the  piano,  but  a 
sudden  impulse  made  me  look  for  the  bow  in- 
stead, and,  finding  it,  run  over  a  few  appeggios 
upon  Allison's  violin. 

"  Play,"  said  Lou,  in  a  low  voice,  "  Raff's  Cav- 
atina;  you  played  it  that  night  after  your  first 
dinner.  Oh,  it  seems  so  long,  long  ago!  It 
was  Marion  LaGrange  who  asked  for  it,  do  you 
remember  ?  " 

"  Perfectly.  And  she  isn't  here  now  to  play 
the  accompaniment.  Will  you  ?  "  I  felt  that  my 
tone  was  a  little  frigid. 

Lou  put  her  crochet-things  into  the  bag,  and 
glided  over  to  the  piano-stool,  her  face  again  soft 
and  sweet. 

"  I  can't  do  it  like  Marion,  but  I'll  try  my 
best." 

She  played  well,  and  I  forgot  her.  I  was  play- 
ing with  Marion  and  was  wondering  what  the 
21 


322  Dainty  Devils. 

unnamed  grief  was,  which  shadowed  her  eyes. 
I  was  determining  to  know  her  better,  and  I  was 
sure  I  was  going  to  love  her. 

"  Thank  you,  Dot.  I  shall  never  forget  that 
night." 

"  Why,  Lou  ?  "  I  inquired,  curiously.  Had  I 
been  so  glaringly  green  and  ignorant  that  my 
first  experience  of  entertaining  was  to  remain  in- 
effaceable in  the  minds  of  the  victimized  partici- 
pants? The  mental  portion  of  that  dinner  I  had 
never  digested,  and  any  illusion  to  it  brought 
a  giddiness  to  my  brain. 

"  Oh,  it  was  the  beginning  o£ — "  she  paused 
and  laughed  in  a  lower  key  than  her  wont,  "  of 
—Well,  Dot,  of  the  end." 

I  turned  away,  offended  at  the  tantalizing  an- 
swer. 

"  I  think  I'll  go  home,  Lou.  You're  not  nice 
any  more." 

"  Yes,  I  am.  And  I'm  happy  too.  Don't  you 
see  I  am  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so ;  I  suppose  I'm  very  stupid,  but 
I  can't  see  why  you  answer  my  question  so 
rudely." 

"  Well,  I  beg  your  pardon.  And  now  come  to 
luncheon.  There !  "  She  kissed  me  noisily,  and 
I  for  the  hundredth  time  yielded  to  the  bewitch- 
ing fascination  of  Lou's  eyes  and  laugh. 

"  If   you   please,    Madam,    Mr.    Allison    says 


February.  323 

he's  sorry  he  can't  come  down,  but  he  sends  his 
compliments  to  Mrs.  Woodward." 

Lou  was  unfolding  her  napkin  when  Davis 
delivered  this  speech.  She  started  violently  and 
repeated  in  astonishment : 

"  Mr.  Allison !  " 

"  You  mightn't  have  known,  Madam,  that  Mr. 
Allison  came  home  sick  early  yesterday  after- 
noon and  as  how  he  still  must  keep  his  room, 
according  to  Dr.  Stanton's  orders." 

Davis  brought  his  wide  mouth  together  with 
an  audible  snap.  Lou  reddened  and  paled  in 
rapid  succession,  and  evidently  she  struggled 
hard  for  the  voice  in  which  she  said : 

"  See  that  Mr.  Allison's  luncheon  is  served  in 
his  room,  Davis." 

"  He's  too  sick  for  anything  but  soup, 
Madam." 

"  That  will  do,  Davis.  You  speak  entirely  too 
often." 

I  sat  in  most  uncomfortable  silence.  What 
ailed  Lou?  And  how  could  Mr.  Allison  be  ill 
upstairs  and  she  not  know  it?  Where  was  the 
reconciliation  I  had  rashly  fancied? 

"  Dot,  dear,  aren't  you  hungry  ?  " 

"  Not  very.    Why  are  you  so  nervous,  Lou  ?  " 

"  I,  nervous  ?  You  imagine  it.  I  never  felt 
less  excited.  Do  you  mean  about  Arnold's  being 
sick?  Oh,  I  knew  he  had  some  sort  of  a  cold 


324  Dainty  Devils. 

a  few  days  ago.  It  is  nothing  serious.  Only  I 
was  sure  he  was  at  his  office  to-day." 

I  made  a  brave  attempt  to  eat.  Lou  talked 
rapidly  a  lot  of  disconnected  stuff  that  amounted 
to  nothing,  till  Davis  left  the  room.  Then  she 
sank  back  in  her  chair  and  neither  moved  nor 
spoke,  apparently  waiting  for  something  or  some- 
one. 

"  Are  you  sure,"  I  finally  asked,  "  that  Mr. 
Allison  got  his  luncheon  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Davis  would  never  neglect  him.  Would 
you  like  to  go  up  to  Arnold  and  see  ?  "  Lou  was 
broadly  scornful. 

"  Lou !  "  I  sprang  out  of  my  chair. 

"  Well,  come  now,  what  would  be  the  harm  ?  " 
Lou  sneered. 

"  None,"  I  said,  severely ;  "  only  that  duty 
should  fall  upon  his  wife." 

"  It  may  fall  all  it  likes — It  will  never  strike 
her." 

"  And  I  fancied  you  had  changed !  "  I  cried. 

"  I  told  you  I  hadn't.  Am  I  not  as  charming 
as  ever?  Dear  little  Dot,  you  don't  know  every- 
thing." 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  begged  me  to  come 
here  to-day." 

"You  don't?  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  I  expected 
to  start  for  Jekyll  Island  to-day,  and  that 
wretched  Blanches!  disappointed  me  with  my 


February.  325 

clothes.  Now  you'll  admit,  dear,  that  I'm  far 
too  handsome  to  be  condemned  to  shabby  apparel 
in  a  brand-new  field.  So  I've  telegraphed  that 
I'm  delayed." 

"  And  am  I  to  console  you  ?  " 

"  In  a  fashion — um — Eh — I  had  other  tele- 
grams to  send,  also.  See  here,  Dot.  Something 
is  going  to  happen,  and  I  ought  to  have  been 
out  of  the  way  long  ago.  Only  vicious  poverty 
has  kept  me  here  for  the  last  six  months — I  mean 
officially  here,  for  you  know  I've  been  away  lots, 
too." 

"  If  you  would  only  explain !  "  I  murmured, 
completely  bewildered. 

"  I'm  trying  to — as  far  as  is  fit,  at  present. 
There  is  a  man  due  in  New  York  to-day,  and 
when  I  found  I  couldn't  be  away,  I  telegraphed 
to  head  him  off.  No  use,  he  started  several  days 
ago.  Now  I've  wired  my  lawyer  here — He  has 
no  fresh  information,  and  doesn't  know  where 
the  Western  man  is.  The  devil  knows  how  the 
whole  thing  will  turn  out !  "  Lou  scowled,  and 
compressed  her  lips. 

"  What  thing,  Lou  ?  Are  you  crazy  ?  "  Her 
whole  manner  was  shocking. 

"  No,  child.    I'm  both  sane  and  sober." 

"  You  are  very  strange,  to  say  the  least.  Why 
did  you  send  for  me  ?  "  I  again  asked,  distressed 
beyond  measure. 


326  Dainty  Devils. 

"  Oh,  I  particularly  wished  not  to  be  alone  to- 
day. I  thought  Arnold  was  out,  I  assure  you." 

Lou  blew  mischievously  into  my  pompadour,  a 
form  of  teasing  which  I  abominate,  put  her  arm 
about  my  shoulders  and  led  me  back  to  the  draw- 
ing-room. I  was  almost  helpless  with  confu- 
sion. 

"  Now,  Dot,  sit  still  and  let  me  think  a  few 
minutes.  I'm  all  in  a  muddle  and  may  have  to 
promptly  change  my  plans." 

She  dropped  into  'an  arm-chair  and  huddled 
herself  into  a  heap,  shoulders  stooping  forward, 
elbows  upon  her  knees  and  her  face  in  her  hands. 
Meanwhile  she  kept  up  a  most  irritating  murmur 
of  "  M— m— m." 

"  Are  you  practicing  for  a  play,  Lou  ?  "  I  im- 
patiently asked. 

"  No,  not  in  the  least.  Real  life  satisfies  me. 
Hark!  Was  that  the  bell ?  Oh,  the  devil !" 

I  sighed  in  despair.  There  was  no  use  trying 
to  expostulate:  for  Davis  was  coming  with  a 
card. 

"  The  gentleman  has  already  been  at  Mr.  Alli- 
son's office,"  said  he,  in  an  aggressive  tone,  "  and 
insists  on  disturbing  him  here." 

Lou  snatched  the  card  from  the  tray  and  stood 
up  very  straight.  She  considered  a  moment,  then 
her  face  hardened.  She  had  taken  her  resolu- 
tion. 


February.  327 

"  The  gentleman  wishes  to  see  Mr.  Allison. 
You  may  take  him  up."  Something  gave  a 
solemn  finality  to  these  ordinary  words. 

I  watched  her,  peculiarly  frightened.  She 
stood  rolling  up  her  handkerchief  and  unrolling 
it,  so  excited  that  she  was  unconscious  of  the 
action.  Suddenly  I  was  impelled  to  speak.  Oh, 
thank  God ! 

"  Lou,  isn't  Mr.  Allison  too  sick  to  see  stran- 
gers?" 

She  rolled  the  handkerchief  more  tightly  than 
ever. 

"  Oh,  he  only  has  a  cold.  And  he  might  as 
well  know  now." 

"  Know  what,  Lou  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Sh !  "  A  man  was  passing  through  the  hall. 
I  saw  him  go  quickly  up,  Davis  in  attendance. 
Before  I  could  speak  again  Lou  had  darted  out 
of  the  room.  I  heard  the  ring  for  a  messenger- 
boy,  and  then  she  was  back  and  scribbling  at 
her  desk.  The  room  was  full  of  sunshine,  yet  a 
queer  darkness  floated  before  my  eyes.  I  had 
no  suspicion  of  the  truth,  but  a  sickening  horror 
had  seized  me. 

"  Lou !  "  I  called,  faintly. 

She  did  not  answer;  she  was  reading  a  note. 
Several  minutes  passed,  during  which  Lou  re- 
mained at  her  desk,  the  note  in  her  hand,  wait- 
ing for  the  messenger-boy.  One  foot  tapped  the 


328  Dainty  Devils. 

floor;  she  was  only  half  on  the  chair,  her  knee 
dropped  down  and  her  whole  attitude  one  of  read- 
iness to  spring  out  of  her  seat  at  an  instant's 
notice. 

After  what  seemed  an  interminable  time,  the 
messenger-boy  arrived.  Lou  opened  the  door. 
Astonished  at  this,  I  was  more  so  when  I  heard 
her  say :  "  Take  this  at  once  to  Mr.  Percy  Earle, 
1000  Wall  Street." 

I  jumped.  Why  did  Lou  want  Percy  at  this 
juncture? 

"  Lou,"  I  said,  in  a  frightened  whisper,  "  what 
is  happening?  There  is  something  wrong."  I 
had  run  to  her  in  the  hall. 

Catching  her  gown  I  held  her  tightly,  staring 
up  in  bewildered  terror  at  her  face.  Before  she 
had  time  to  speak,  a  door  upstairs  opened. 

"  Good  morning,  sir."  It  was  Allison  dismiss- 
ing his  caller. 

Lou  stepped  aside,  crowding  me  against  the 
wall  as  he  passed  us.  She  acknowledged  his 
exaggerated  bow  by  a  curt  nod.  The  door  up- 
stairs had  not  closed.  Evidently  Allison  was 
waiting  to  make  sure  of  the  stranger's  departure. 
Lou  pushed  me  into  the  drawing-room,  follow- 
ing me  closely  and  hastily. 

"Dot,"  said  she,  speaking  in  a  low,  warning 
tone,  "  remember  that  you  are  to  stick  to  me. 
Arnold  will  probably  try — " 


February.  329 

Mr.  Allison  was  coming,  and  Lou  interrupted 
herself.  Her  cheeks  had  flushed  nervously,  and 
her  eyes  were  fiercely  dilated.  She  let  her  hand- 
kerchief fall,  and  her  arms  hung  limply  at  her 
sides.  As  Allison  hesitated  a  moment  at  the 
portieres,  Lou  drew  one  gasping  breath,  and 
stepped  backward  till  she  leaned  against  some 
high  book-shelves.  There  she  waited,  erect,  si- 
lent and  calm. 

Mr.  Allison  came  in  slowly,  holding  some 
papers  out  before  him  in  his  right  hand.  He  was 
dressed,  save  his  tie,  and  wore  bed-room  slip- 
pers, as  if  in  the  hurry  of  his  toilet  he  had  for- 
gotten them.  Their  heellessness  added  to  the 
unnaturalness  of  his  gait,  which  halted  like  that 
of  an  old  man.  He  looked  pale  and  ill,  and  his 
eyes  were  awful.  I  slunk  back  into  a  corner 
where  some  drapery  served  as  a  kind  of  con- 
soling shield,  but  I  had  to  watch  and  listen  and 
I  trembled,  expecting  I  did  not  know  what. 

"  Louise !  "  His  illness  made  him  hoarse,  but 
not  so  hoarse  as  that. 

Lou  inclined  her  head  ever  so  slightly,  and 
met  unflinchingly  the  gaze  of  his  wild,  command- 
ing eyes. 

"  I  have  been — "  he  stopped  to  cough,  and  my 
heart  seemed  to  check  off  the  seconds,  so  slowly 
and  hard  it  beat.  Almost  breathless,  Mr.  Alli- 
son finally  resumed — "  served  with  some  papers 


33o  Dainty  Devils. 

— The  first  in — proceedings — for  Absolute  Di- 
vorce— applied  for  by — you,  Louise  Appleton 
Allison." 

Lou  moved  from  the  supporting  book-case. 
Haughtily  erect  she  said  coldly,  "  Yes." 

Mr.  Allison's  outstretched  arms  dropped.  His 
figure  seemed  to  shrink  and  his  features  con- 
tracted. Involuntarily,  I  cried  out : 

"Oh,  don't!" 

The  room  was  reeling.  I  believe  I  was  faint- 
ing from  horror  and  fright  when  Mr.  Allison's 
voice  startled  me  into  my  full  senses.  It  was 
low,  steady,  courteous,  and  he  no  longer  looked 
at  Lou. 

"  Then  there  is  no  mistake  ? — You  wish  to  be 
free?" 

That  insolent  figure  two  feet  from  him  did  not 
move. 

Distantly,  composedly,  Lou  answered,  "  I  do." 

The  man  bowed,  turned,  and,  with  head  hung 
and  shoulders  bent,  went  out,  carrying  the  Sum- 
mons. 

I  wrung  my  hands  in  impotent  misery,  and 
breathed  a  prayer  which  I  know  now  was  a  ter- 
rible sin.  What  should  I  say  to  Lou?  What 
could  I  do  ?  Oh,  Allison !  How  could  you  take  it 
so  tamely! 

"  Thank  Heaven,  it's  over ! '' 

Lou  spoke  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  and  picked 


February.  33 1 

up  her  handkerchief.  I  saw  her  go  to  a  mirror 
and  carefully  loosen  her  pompadour,  afterwards 
tucking  in  more  securely  a  few  hair-pins  for 
which  her  heavy  black  hair  was  too  much. 
Amazement  at  her  cold-bloodedness  transfixed 
me.  I  had  no  voice,  no  power  of  motion,  no  cap- 
ability of  reasoning. 

"  Lou !  " 

The  voice  came  from  upstairs.  It  was  Allison 
calling.  Lou  made  no  reply.  I  wanted  to  say, 
"  Go  to  him,"  and  I  could  not. 

"  Good-bye,  Lou !  " 

Clearly,  piercingly,  not  at  all  like  the  husky 
voice  of  a  few  minutes  earlier,  the  words  rang 
out. 

Ah!    Lou  started  at  last. 

"  What  does  he  mean  ?  "  she  cried,  laughing 
hideously. 

A  pistol-shot  answered  her.  I  screamed 
shrilly,  once,  twice,  a  great  many  times.  In  the 
room  above  us,  a  body  fell  heavily.  From  the 
third  floor  came,  like  the  crazed  echo  of  my 
panic,  the  shrieks  of  Belle  St.  John.  Then  ser- 
vants ran,  more  women  screamed,  and  I  grew 
still  through  very  terror  as  I  heard  Davis  cry : 

"  Oh,  my  God !    The  master's  killed  himself !  " 

Lou  swayed  and  caught  at  a  chair. 

"  It  can't  be,"  she  muttered.  "  He  was  here 
a  minute  ago." 


332  Dainty  Devils. 

I  rushed  at  her,  I  believe  to  strike  her.  A  fly- 
ing figure  in  a  long  white  gown  separated  us. 

"You  fiend!"  screamed  Belle  St.  John. 
"  What  have  you  done  now  ?  Oh,  what  did  we 
ever  do,  that  I  got  St.  John,  and  you  Allison? 
Allison  dead !  The  only  friend  I  had !  " 

Belle  broke  off  moaning,  and  tottered  to  a 
chair,  as  Lou  pulled  herself  together. 

"  Hush !  He  can't  be  dead.  It's  some  acci- 
dent, and  Davis  is  telephoning  for  the  doctor." 

Was  it  strength  of  nerve  or  lack  of  heart  ?  The 
woman  could  still  look  proud  and  speak  authori- 
tatively. 

"  Annie,  Maggie,  anybody,  run  for  some  doc- 
tor in  the  street — Dr.  Stanton  is  out." 

Davis  was  giving  orders  in  an  agonized  voice. 
I  heard  him  rush  back  again  to  the  room  where 
Mr.  Allison  lay,  and  saw  Belle  St.  John  leap 
after  him,  like  some  frenzied  animal. 

"  There  is  no  use  of  my  going,"  said  Lou,  in 
a  low  voice. 

"  There  is,"  I  said,  bitterly,  "  unless  you  want 
the  whole  house  to  know  why  he  did  it." 

Lou  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  divan.  For 
an  instant  a  look  of  doubt  and  despair  darkened 
her  face.  Then  she  paled,  but  sullen  determina- 
tion was  in  every  feature. 

"  They  will  know.     He  had  the  Process." 

"  Good  Heavens !    Can't  you  get  it?  " 


February.  333 

There  was  commotion  at  the  hall-door.  Hur- 
ried footsteps,  strange,  curious  voices,  smothered 
arguing  and  eager  questions. 

Lou  turned  her  head  toward  the  window. 

"  Annie  has  brought  a  doctor — and  the  pub- 
lic," said  she.  At  last  some  physical  limitation 
was  reached,  and  she  slipped  back,  white  and  still 
upon  the  cushions. 

Wretchedly  I  waited  for  a  sound,  a  word, 
some  message  from  Mr.  Allison.  Minutes 
passed.  I  could  not  force  myself  to  go  near 
Lou  to  help  her.  Finally  she  came  out  of  the 
faint  unassisted,  and  slowly  raised  herself  upon 
her  elbow.  Courage  seemed  to  have  deserted 
her  for  the  moment. 

"  Dot,"  she  whispered,  fearfully,  "  have  you 
heard  anything?  " 

Footsteps  overhead  were  as  plain  to  her  as  to 
me.  I  did  not  answer.  I  sat  with  every  muscle 
tense  and  every  nerve  throbbing.  Lou  steadily 
gathered  together  her  physical  strength  and  men- 
tal assurance,  and  after  a  while  calmly  disap- 
peared into  the  next  room.  Several  strangers, 
suggestive  of  a  rabble,  thronged  the  hall  outside. 
I  was  so  benumbed  by  fright  that  these  intrud- 
ers did  not  annoy  me  in  the  least. 

"Mrs.  Allison?" 

A  pale  young  man,  undisguisedly  agitated,  ad- 
dressed me.  His  eyes  were  full  of  respectful 


334  Dainty  Devils. 

pity  and  honest  admission  of  his  helplessness. 
Until  he  spoke,  I  had  been  unaware  of  his  pres- 
ence. 

"  No/'  I  stammered,  relaxing  a  trifle  from 
my  mental  rigidity ;  "  Mrs.  Allison  is  in  the  next 
room." 

"  I  am  here."  Lou  entered  quietly,  taking  a 
lighted  cigarette  from  her  lips  as  she  spoke. 

I  stared  at  her  in  dull  anger.  What  an  actress 
— and  what  a  devil !  Yet  I  believe  now  she  had 
no  idea  that  she  had  picked  up  a  cigarette.  It 
was  a  strong  habit  coming  to  her  aid  in  her  dis- 
tracted state. 

"  The  accident  is,"  said  she,  enunciating  like 
one  accustomed  to  some  other  language  than 
English,  "  not  at  all  serious,  I  trust  ?  There  is  no 
cause  for  alarm  ?  " 

The  young  physician  gasped. 

"  Are  you  not  the  doctor  ?  "  asked  Lou,  in  a 
bored  voice. 

"  I  am,  Mrs.  Allison — "  a  slight  pause,  then 
very  clearly  and  distinctly  he  said,  motioning 
barely  perceptibly  toward  the  group  of  servants 
and  others  at  the  door,  "  Mr.  Allison  has  acci- 
dentally shot  himself  in  a  way  which  leaves  small 
hope  for  his  recovery,  although  he  still  breathes." 
Every  word  was  impressively  pronounced,  es- 
pecially "  accidentally." 

Lou  stood  silent,  stunned^  delighted  or  fright- 


February.  335 

ened,  I  do  not  Know  which.  I  felt  a  great  lump 
choking  me  and  sending  sharp  pains  through  the 
back  of  my  throat,  which  is  the  way  a  fit  of 
weeping  begins  when  my  heart  is  breaking.  Alli- 
son was  dying !  A  suicide ! 

"  While  there  is  life  there  is  hope." 

It  was  Lou  uttering  the  words  in  a  mechanical 
way,  which  under  the  circumstances  was  heath- 
enish. She  probably  felt  the  absolute  necessity 
of  saying  something. 

"  True,"  said  the  physician.  "  Have  I  your 
permission  to  send  for  nurses  ?  "  He  had  no  time 
to  waste  upon  Lou. 

"  Send  for  everything  that  may  be  necessary. 
And  first  of  all  send  those  gaping  intruders  out 
of  the  house." 

She  went  back  to  the  divan  and  bowed  her 
head,  most  appropriately,  most  touchingly  for  the 
strange  spectators.  As  for  me,  I  knew  she  was 
neither  praying  nor  grieving.  Had  I  been  sworn 
to  give  my  opinion  as  to  the  expression  of  which 
mood  her  pretty  head  and  arm  concealed,  I  should 
have  been  obliged  to  say  that  she  was  calculat- 
ing how  soon  she  might  expect  Percy  Earle. 

Dr.  Lane  said  a  few  grave  words  to  the  hu- 
man' beings,  hushed  and  awed  now  at  the  an- 
nouncement that  Mr.  Allison  had  been  accident- 
ally and  dangerously  shot.  They  dispersed  de- 
cently— The  servants  to  hide  upon  the  stairs  and 


336  Dainty  Devils. 

listen  to  every  word  and  movement,  the  strangers 
to  loiter  upon  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  the  house, 
and  imagine  and  report  what  they  did  not  see 
or  hear. 

Short  nervous  messages  were  going  over  the 
telephone.  I  was  bitterly  sorry  when  Dr.  Lane 
ceased  ordering,  and  returned  to  his  patient.  It 
was  a  comfort  to  hear  things  sent  for,  nurses 
summoned  to  the  aid  of  poor  Allison  in  his  mor- 
tal need. 

Who  would  have  believed  him  capable  of  such 
a  deed?  The  quiet,  methodical,  undemonstra- 
tive man  who  never  made  a  fuss  about  anything ! 
Strong  feeling  seemed  far  removed  from  his  dis- 
position. Had  impetuous  Percy  done  such  a 
thing,  the  insanity  would  not  have  been  so  com- 
pletely out  of  character.  How  far  must  a  man 
suffer  before  he  dares  his  Creator  by  taking  the 
life  he  himself  did  not  give?  What  was  Alli- 
son's inner  life,  which  the  exterior  so  entirely  be- 
lied? Not  one  of  us  had  known  him — neither 
Jack,  nor  Lou,  nor  I.  And  as  for  Marion,  I  re- 
called what  she  said  that  dreary  night  we  drove 
home  from  Blashfields'  together :  "  He  may  be 
one  of  the  still  waters  than  run  deep !  "  He  had 
indeed  been  still,  under  neglect,  and  insuft  and 
deceit,  but  the  waters  of  his  sorrow  were  deep, 
and  at  last  a  mighty  agony  stirred  their  depths, 
an  agony  that  overswept  his  judgment  and  rca- 


February.  337 

son  and  faith  in  God.  And  he  went  down — a  mad- 
dened atom  in  the  raging  deluge. 

But  as  yet  Allison  was  not  dead.  He  was  not 
yet  out  of  this  world  we  love  and  think  we  under- 
stand, and  which  we  never  can  fully  believe  will 
continue  to  exist  without  us.  The  sunset  is  still 
for  him  to-night — where  will  he  be,  at  to-mor- 
row's ? 

"  My  God,  have  mercy !  "  I  found  myself  say- 
ing. 

Lou  stirred. 

"  Please  don't  go  into  hysterics,  Dot,"  she  said, 
plaintively,  as  though  she  were  a  suffering  martyr 
who  ought  to  be  considered  and  spared  as  much 
as  possible.  "  Where  is  Belle  ?  " 

"  How  should  I  know  ?  She  is  probably  help- 
ing Dr.  Lane  with  Mr.  Allison." 

I  resumed  my  tearful  praying,  to  be  again  in- 
terrupted. 

"Dot,  ought  I  to  go  up?"  Lou  turned  sud- 
denly haggard. 

"  You  know  very  well  what  you  ought  to  do," 
I  answered,  harshly.  "  For  Mr.  Allison's  sake, 
I  hope  he  is  unconscious." 

She  winced.  Then  she  straightened  her  gown 
and  left  me  without  a  word.  I  watched  her  go 
slowly  up  the  stairs,  her  head  thrown  high  in  de- 
fiance of  her  own  terror.  Over  and  over  again  I 
petitioned  wildly,  "  Oh,  God,  have  mercy !  "  not 
02 


338  Dainty  Devils. 

knowing  in  what  I  hoped  the  mercy  would  con- 
sist. I  had  paced  the  length  of  the  room  a  dozen 
times  before  Lou  returned. 

"  He  has  never  regained  consciousness,"  she 
said,  excitedly ;  "  and  I  can't  find  the  Summons." 

My  prayer  died  away. 

"  It  would  have  been  like  Mr.  Allison  to  lock 
it  in  his  desk  before  he  killed  himself,"  I  said, 
cruelly. 

"  Hush !  "  Lou  cried,  sharply.  "  It  was  an  ac- 
cident." 

The  maid  Annie  was  answering  the  bell.  I 
remorsefully  regretted  my  speech,  and  realized 
at  the  same  instant  that  it  could  never  be  re- 
called. An  interval  of  black  misery  came  between 
my  words  and  recognition  of  Annie  upon  her 
way  to  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Earle,  Madam.  And  two  reporters 
squeezed  in  with  him.  I  couldn't  help  it.  And 
master  a-dying !  " 

Lou  began  to  tremble. 

"  Close  the  doors,"  she  commanded.  "  I  have 
nothing  to  say  to  the  reporters.  I  will  not  see 
them,  do  you  hear?  Tell  Mr.  Earle  to  come  in 
here." 

Percy  was  talking  to  the  reporters  in  a  man's 
decided  way — I  heard  "  accident  "  three  times. 
When  he  came  to  Lou,  Annie  clumsily  banged 
the  doors  shut  under  the  portieres. 


February.  339 

"  What  has  happened,  Lou  ?  " 

Suppressed  excitement  and  alarm  made  Percy's 
tone  stern. 

"  Percy !  "  With  the  word,  Lou  threw  herself 
into  his  arms. 

In  the  room  directly  above  us,  this  woman's 
husband  lay  dying;  forgetful  of  the  tragedy,  of 
her  own  guilt,  of  common  every-day  decency,  she 
demanded  her  lover's  caresses  at  this  horrible 
crisis.  Love  is  responsible  for  much.  It  is  the 
instigator  of  the  highest  and  the  lowest,  the 
noblest  and  the  meanest  acts — holy  or  hellish, 
according  to  its  origin  and  aims.  Unspeakably 
revolted  by  Lou's  behavior,  I  moved  towards  the 
door. 

"  I  am  going,  Lou/'  I  said,  hastily  and  miser- 
ably. 

"  No,  pardon  me,  Mrs.  Woodward,  you  are 
not."  Percy  supported  Lou  to  a  chair,  which  she 
had  no  choice  but  to  take.  "  Tell  me,  Lou,  what 
has  happened?  Is  it  true  that  Allison  is  shot?" 

Lou  looked  up  at  him  in  frightened  wonder. 

"  Did  you  think  I  did  it,  Percy?  " 

The  man's  face  softened,  and  he  patted  her 
head. 

"  You  poor  girl !  What  a  question  !  But  why 
did  he  try  to  commit  suicide?  There  must  have 
been  a  cause."  Darkness  again  settled  upon 
Percy's  countenance. 


34°  Dainty  Devils. 

"You  ask  that,  Percy?" 

The  tone  was  low,  reproachful,  piteously 
wretched. 

Percy  bit  his  lip. 

"  I  do  ask  it,"  said  he,  sternly  at  last. 

"  To-day  he  received  the  first  papers  in  the — " 
the  voice  grew  stronger — "  Divorce  Suit." 

An  ominous  silence  filled  the  room.  Percy's 
face  seemed  cut  out  of  marble.  A  trembling  sigh 
from  Lou  broke  the  spell. 

"Percy!" 

He  did  not  move.  His  eyes  were  fixed  and  his 
mouth  set. 

"  Say  something  to  me."  Lou  clasped  his  arm 
and  laid  her  face  against  his  sleeve. 

"  You  did  it — for  me  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  voice 
hardly  audible. 

"  You  know  I  did." 

A  smothered  groan  came  from  Percy's  drawn 
lips. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  he  said,  forcing  the  words ;  "  I 
know  it." 

Another  mute  pause,  while  Lou's  face  pressed 
Percy's  sleeve  more  closely.  His  passiveness  was 
like  paralysis.  At  last  Lou  recognized  it.  She 
drew  away  slowly  and  her  head  fell. 

"  Are  you  sorry,  Percy  ?  "  Cringing  entreaty 
was  in  the  query.  Percy's  brow  contracted.  He 


February.  341 

put  his  hand  to  his  forehead  and  pressed  it  dis- 
tractedly. 

"  You  are  sorry ! "  cried  Lou,  in  despair,  her 
face  twitching. 

"  I  cannot  be  glad  that  Allison  is  shot."  There 
was  something  desperate  in  Percy's  distinct 
enunciation. 

Lou's  breast  heaved.  Bursting  into  wild  weep- 
ing she  flung  herself  into  Percy's  arms.  He  held 
her  a  moment  mechanically,  his  features  immov- 
able. Earnest  voices  outside  the  door  caused  him 
to  start  with  some  sense  that  there  was  work  to 
be  done  for  Allison.  He  half  lifted  Lou  back 
into  her  chair,  she  clinging  wildly  to  him. 

"  Stay  with  me,  Percy,  stay  with  me !  "  she 
moaned. 

Percy  disengaged  her  hands. 

"  Your  husband  still  lives,"  he  said,  in  a  far- 
away voice.  "  Perhaps  I  can  be  of  use  upstairs." 

He  drew  himself  up  and  walked  slowly  out  of 
the  room,  his  face  no  less  white  than  Allison's 
had  been.  As  the  door  closed  upon  him,  Lou 
fell  face  downward  upon  the  floor,  not  swooning 
or  ill,  but  in  a  paroxysm  of  fear  and  anger  and 
disappointment,  scratching  at  the  carpet  with  her 
finger-nails  and  beating  the  floor  with  her  feet. 

As  I  grew  dizzy  through  fright  and  disgust, 
the  door  opened  and  Jack,  sent  for  by  Davis,  came 
silently  toward  me;  following  him  was  Mar- 


342  Dainty  Devils. 

ion  La  Grange.  They  both  stopped  abruptly  at 
sight  of  Lou.  The  next  second  Jack  lifted  her 
without  a  word  and  carried  her  to  the  divan  in 
the  next  room.  Marion  took  my  hands  and 
held  them  firmly.  Evidently  she  had  been  in 
the  house  for  some  time,  for  she  brought  a  kind 
of  report. 

"  We  must  pray,  Dot,  we  must  pray.  Dr. 
Stanton  has  come,  and  two  nurses,  and  Dr.  Lane 
will  help.  They  have  already  begun  to  operate. 
There  is  hardly  one  chance  in  a  thousand." 

Twilight  had  fallen  and  Marion's  figure  trem- 
bled like  an  intangible  shadow  before  my 
tired  eyes.  The  running  back  and  forth  had 
ceased,  and  Davis,  stationed  in  the  vestibule,  was 
preventing  ringing  of  bells  and  entrance  of  re- 
porters. A  deep  foreboding  silence  had  taken  the 
place  of  the  earlier  commotion  and  excitement. 
Even  Jack  stooping  over  Lou  in  the  next  room, 
was  silent. 

"  Marion,"  I  whispered,  "  sit  close  to  me  here, 
and  pray  if  you  can."  I  could  no  longer  find 
words  for  a  petition. 

Darkness  followed  the  twilight.  No  one 
thought  of  lights.  Lou  was,  or  feigned  to  be, 
asleep.  The  hall-clock  chimed  every  quarter  of 
an  hour.  Jack  joined  Marion  and  me,  and  we 
three  sat  speechless.  Carriages  frequently 
stopped  before  the  house;  the  inquirers  they 


February.  343 

brought  were  respectfully  disposed  of  by  the 
waiting  Davis.  For  a  while  I  was  conscious  of 
every  sound.  Later,  weariness  overcame  me  and 
I  fell  asleep  against  Jack's  shoulder. 

About  eight  o'clock  Jack  roused  himself,  and 
I  awoke.  The  doctors  were  leaving,  and  someone 
had  at  last  lighted  the  house. 

"  There  is  a  slight  possibility  that  he  will  re- 
cover." 

That  was  the  best  they  could  tell  Jack.  Alli- 
son had  never  regained  consciousness.  They  had 
extracted  the  ball — Oh,  yes — only  the  hemor- 
rhage was  very  bad.  One  of  the  nurses  had 
fainted,  and  then  Mr.  Earle  had  given  the  ether. 
Mr.  Earle  would  remain  all  night,  and  Dr.  Stan- 
ton  would  be  back  at  twelve. 

Lou  stirred,  arose  and  joined  the  doctors. 

"  It  would  be  better,  you  think — "  she  faltered. 

"  What  is  it,  Lou  dear  ?  "  Marion  and  I  heard 
Jack  ask,  gently. 

"  Should  we  not  send  for  a  clergyman  ?  " 

Was  a  tortured  conscience  prompting  her  ? 

"  As  you  wish,  dear,"  from  Jack.  "  Arnold  is 
unconscious." 

"  Yes,  and  so  we  needn't  ask  old  Dr.  Bliss," 
in  a  quick,  nervous  whisper.  "  The  Curate  of  St. 
Clara's  will  come  at  once,  I  know." 

"Allison  detested  him,"  said  Jack,   forcibly. 


344  Dainty  Devils. 

Then  he  must  have  quickly  repented  of  his  can- 
dor, for  he  added  hastily,  "  Send  for  any  one  who 
will  make  it  easier  for  you." 

Sitting  by  Marion  in  the  dark,  I  ground  my 
teeth  and  felt  like  a  wild  animal.  "  Easier  for 
her !  "  How  much  consideration  did  the  wicked 
wife  merit?  Let  them  send  for  venerable  Dr. 
Bliss,  of  whom  Lou  had  always  been  mortally 
afraid.  Of  what  was  Jack  thinking?  It  was 
Allison  who  was  dying — Ah !  And  my  tears  fell 
hot  and  fast — Jack  meant  that  for  Allison  there 
was  no  longer  any  help.  It  mattered  nothing 
who  came  or  went  in  the  house  where  he  had  been 
the  master,  and  where  he  now  lay  gasping  un- 
knowingly in  his  last  agony. 

Lou's  voice,  sweet  and  chastened,  was  summon- 
ing the  Curate  of  St.  Clara's  who,  in  spite 
of  Marion's  rejection  of  him,  had  left  neither  the 
ministry  nor  New  York.  Afterward  Lou  passed 
through  the  hall  on  her  way  from  the  telephone, 
and  at  the  open  door  I  caught  sight  of  her  face 
under  the  strong  light.  I  gripped  Marion's  hand, 
and  she  answered  the  pressure.  Lou  might  speak 
calmly,  might  walk  steadily,  but  her  face, 
grown  in  a  few  hours  old  and  pinched,  bore  the 
stamp  of  incredible  horror  and  suffering.  And 
yet — ashamed  I  hid  my  face  against  Marion's 
shoulder — I  could  not  force  myself  to  believe  that 
the  anguish  shadowed  heavily  upon  the  white 


February.  345 

countenance  was  for  Allison.  I  had  unfortun- 
ately witnessed  the  scene  between  Lou  and  Percy, 
as  well  as  Lou's  spasms  and  contortions  after  he 
had  left  her. 

Jack  had  seen  the  doctors  out.  Lou  returned 
to  her  improvised  couch  in  the  drawing-room, 
and  settled  herself  to  await  the  arrival  of  the 
Curate  of  St.  Clara's.  Percy  Earle  had  never 
left  Allison's  room  since  he  first  entered  it.  Once 
I  heard  him  speak,  and  somehow  I  was  thankful 
he  was  with  Allison.  In  about  half-an-hour  the 
Curate  arrived.  Lou  received  him  agitatedly  and 
with  tears.  She  did  not,  however,  accompany  him 
to  her  husband.  He  agreed  with  her  that  she 
should  "  spare  "  herself.  For  what? 

As  Lou  and  the  Curate  parted,  Jack  brought 
me  some  coffee.  I  refused  it  decidedly,  and  he 
quietly  put  the  cup  to  my  lips.  The  hot,  stimu- 
lating stuff  revived  me  wonderfully. 

"  And  now,  dear,  I  shall  send  you  home  with 
Marion." 

"  Are  you  coming,  too,  Jack  ?  " 

"  No,  darling ;  I  can't  leave  Lou  nor  Arnold 
to-night." 

"  Then  I  shall  stay,  too." 

He  tried  to  dissuade  me,  although  weakly. 
Marion  said  if  Jack  would  send  a  message  to  her 
mother,  who  was  ill  with  a  cold,  she  would  re- 
main with  me — and  that  settled  the  question. 


346  Dainty  Devils. 

So  the  ghastly  night  wore  on. 


Cramped  and  chilled  in  the  early  dawn,  I 
awoke  from  an  unrefreshing  sleep.  Jack  had 
thrown  his  top-coat  over  me,  and  sat  sleeping 
soundly  in  a  chair.  Marion,  awake,  was  at  the 
window,  her  forehead  resting  upon  her  hand. 

"  Marion !  " 

"  Yes,  Dot,"  starting.    "  You've  been  asleep." 

"  Have  you  heard  anything.  " 

Marion's  eyes  filled. 

"  They  sent  for  Lou  fifteen  minutes  ago." 

"Oh!" 

"  The  curate  came  for  her.  He  stayed  all 
night." 

"Hello!    Yes!    What  is  it?" 

Jack  awoke  in  great  confusion,  and  stared 
blankly  at  us. 

"  How  cold  it  is !  "  he  muttered.  Then  he  re- 
membered where  he  was,  and  why,  and  sprang  up 
eagerly. 

"  The  doctors  said  Allison  would  be  safe  if 
he  saw  the  morning,"  exclaimed  he,  animatedly. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  Marion,  heart-brokenly. 

She  could  see  the  Curate  of  St.  Clara's  and 
Percy  Earle  coming  slowly,  silently.  Both  men 
were  pale,  and  Percy  had  been  weeping.  The 
Curate  was  posing,  his  hands  with  the  fingers 


February.  347 

pressed  together  as  the  acolytes  walk  in  proces- 
sion, his  chin  in  the  air,  his  eyes  rolled  heaven- 
ward. Percy's  head  was  low,  and  tall  as  he  is, 
he  seemed  short  in  his  limp  carriage  beside  the 
stiff  figure  of  the  clergyman.  They  came  to  us 
almost  side-by-side.  The  Curate  broke  the  mes- 
sage in  a  manner  of  studied  impressiveness : 

"  Mr.  Allison  has  just  died ;  he  never  recovered 
consciousness." 

Jack  bowed  his  head.  The  Curate  continued, 
rising  slightly  upon  his  toes. 

"  It  would  be  well  if  you  and  Mrs.  Woodward 
would  go  to  the  stricken  widow.  Mrs.  St.  John 
is — "  he  coughed — "  helpless,  and  Mrs.  Allison 
needs  some  one." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jack,  absently,  "  I  shall  go."  He 
seemed  stunned. 

Chimes  for  an  early  service  suddenly  floated 
in  upon  our  weary,  straining  ears.  All  started, 
questioning  one  another  with  quick,  uncompre- 
hending glances. 

"  It  is  Ash  Wednesday,"  the  Curate  began,  be- 
nignly enlightening  us.  "  '  Remember  man,  that 
thou  are  dust,  and  unto  dust  thou  shalt  return.' 
How  sadly  appropriate  under  these  solemn  cir- 
cumstances !  " 

The  man  was  affected  and  theatrical,  even  in 
the  presence  of  death.  He  quoted  in  a  profes- 
sional sing-song  and  rolled  his  eyes  frantically. 


348  Dainty  Devils. 

Jack  turned  from  him  to  me  and  spoke  ten- 
derly : 

"  You,  dear,  shall  not  go  to  Lou.  Wait  for  me 
here,  and  I'll  take  you  home  in  a  few  minutes. 
The  nurses  will  stay  with  her." 

The  chimes  continued,  sweet,  touching,  invit- 
ing, in  the  dawn  of  a  new  day.  Percy  Earle 
suddenly  raised  his  head.  He  had  worn  a  sur- 
plice only  five  years  back  in  St.  Clara's  choir. 
His  eyes,  feverish  and  frightened,  wandered  pite- 
ously  over  the  room  till  they  met  Marion's. 
There  they  rested  in  boyish  appeal. 

"  Marion,"  he  said  in  a  kind  of  husky  whisper, 
"  shall  we  go  to  church  together  ?  Out  in  the 
air — I  am  suffocating !  Then  to  the  chapel,  where 
it  is  quiet  and  one  can  think." 

The  girl  spoke  quietly,  apparently  without  sur- 
prise. 

"  If  there  is  nothing  more  for  you  to  do  here." 

"  No,  no,"  Jack  interposed.  "  Go,  both  of  you. 
I  am  here,  and  the  duty  is  mine.  Percy  was 
awake  all  night." 

"  And  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to  assist,"  said 
the  Curate,  unctuously.  He  supplemented  this 
with  a  sigh  and  the  remark,  "  Although  I  was 
awake  all  night,  too."  He  had  at  last  allowed 
his  prayerful  hands  to  assume  a  normal  position. 

"  If  you  will  remain  here  with  Mrs.  Wood- 
ward," suggested  Jack,  unconscious  of  the  pen- 


February.  349 

ance  he  was  inflicting  upon  me,  by  assigning  me 
to  so  much  poorer  company  than  my  own;  the 
Curate  bowed. 

They  left  me,  first  Marion  and  Percy,  then 
Jack.  I  believe  the  Curate  essayed  some  pious 
discourse,  to  which  I  made  no  response.  In 
mute  misery  I  waited  Jack's  return.  People  had 
come  and  gone,  the  chimes  had  ceased  for  an  hour 
and  begun  again,  before  he  was  back  and 
huddling  me  into  a  cloak.  I  was  passive  now, 
my  emotions  having  exhausted  themselves.  Only 
once  during  the  short  drive  home,  a  sudden  recol- 
lection of  Belle  St.  John  caused  me  to  ask  where 
she  was.  Jack  groaned. 

"  In  her  room,  Dot,  oblivious  of  everything. 
Dr.  Stanton  was  alarmed  at  first.  She  took  an 
overdose  of  laudanum." 

I  was  not  shocked  nor  worried.  Jack  carried 
me  upstairs  and  Perkins,  wide-eyed  and  curious, 
put  me  to  bed.  Then  Jack  gave  me  something 
bitter  to  drink,  and  I  became  drowsy.  As  in  a 
dream  I  heard  him  say  to  Perkins : 

"  Burn  every  morning-paper  in  the  house,  do 
you  hear?  And  under  no  circumstances  allow 
anyone  to  see  Mrs.  Woodward." 


MARCH. 

Two  weeks  ago  poor  Allison  was  laid  away  in 
Greenwood.  I  begged  Jack  to  allow  me  to  go 
to  the  funeral,  to  show  my  last  mournful  respect 
to  the  man  who  in  life  had  been  singularly  with- 
out the  solace  of  attention  and  consideration. 
Jack  remained  gently  obdurate,  and  I  perforce 
remained  at  home,  where  I  had  been  grieving  and 
half-sick  in  my  room  since  the  day  Allison  died, 
while  Jack,  very  white  and  serious  in  his  black 
clothes,  drove  off  alone  to  the  funeral. 

Perkins  undoubtedly  believed  I  was  asleep  on 
the  couch  in  the  darkened  boudoir,  for  she  stole 
out  on  tiptoe  after  Jack  had  gone.  I  lay  still 
for  some  time,  crying  softly  as  I  brooded  over  the 
thought  that  never  again  upon  earth  should  I 
hear  Allison's  voice  or  see  his  face.  As  the  clock 
struck  ten  I  sprang  up  nervously.  Dr.  Bliss  was 
beginning  the  service.  "  I  am  the  Resurrection 
and  the  Life ! "  I  could  hear  him,  I  could  see 
Jack's  pale  face,  and  Percy  Earle's !  What  were 
Lou's  feelings,  and  how  was  she  bearing  herself  ? 

Marion,  like  everybody  I  knew,  was  at  the 

350 


March.  351 

funeral.  The  loneliness  of  my  room  grew  un- 
bearable. Strangely  excited,  I  hurried  down- 
stairs, why  I  do  not  know,  for  the  lower  rooms 
are  bigger  and  drearier  than  my  own.  I  wan- 
dered about,  pausing  once  at  a  window  to  gaze 
out  over  the  Park  where  the  grass  was  already 
beginning  to  show  brilliantly  green  between 
patches  of  snow.  There  is  yellow  as  of  light  in 
the  first  green  of  spring.  Last  year  I  had 
greeted  it  with  lively  joy,  as  the  precur- 
sor of  a  beautiful  summer ;  now,  it  only  made  me 
remember  that  Allison  was  going  to  his  grave — 
in  that  solemn  country,  the  cemetery,  where 
the  grass  was  springing  as  tenderly  and  as 
brightly  as  in  the  Park.  The  trees  were  bare  and 
brown,  but  beautiful  in  the  maze  of  interlacing 
twigs  against  a  sky  which  was  deeply  blue  ex- 
cept in  one  great  space  over  the  horizon,  where 
a  million  pearly  broken  shells  seemed  scattered 
broadcast.  Had  I  ever  seen  quite  such  clouds 
before? — I  asked  myself.  I  must  call  Jack — but 
no ;  Jack  was  away  :  for  to-day  they  were  burying 
Allison. 

I  shuddered  in  the  sunshine,  and  went  listlessly 
back  to  the  library.  Many  papers  lay  piled  upon 
the  table.  Aimlessly  I  picked  one  up,  glanced  at 
it,  cried  out  as  though  in  physical  pain,  threw  it 
down  as  if  it  stung  me,  then  snatched  it  up  again. 

This  is  what  I  read  in  big  headlines ; 


352  Dainty  Devils. 

"ARNOLD  WHITNEY  ALLISON  A  SUI- 
CIDE." 

"  PROMINENT  YOUNG  BROKER  SHOOTS 
HIMSELF— WIFE  ONE  OF  THE  MOST 
BEAUTIFUL  WOMEN  IN  SOCIETY- 
HER  APPLICATION  FOR  ABSOLUTE 
DIVORCE  CAUSE  OF  THE  RASH  ACT- 
JEALOUS  OF  HIS  VISITS  AT  THE 
HOUSE  OF  MRS.  J.  WORTHINGTON 
WOODWARD." 

I  reeled.  Here  was  the  reason  Jack  had  said 
reading  would  be  bad  for  my  eyes  because  I  had 
strained  them  by  crying  so  much ! 

"  Liar !  "  I  found  myself  gasping. 

The  paper  bore  the  date  of  Allison's  death.  I 
crushed  it  between  my  hands  and  picked  up  an- 
other. I  did  not  at  once  find  the  article  I  sought, 
but  it  was  there — Oh,  yes,  it  was  there !  Red  ink 
this  time  and  taller  capitals ! 

"MAN  DISCHARGED  FROM  WOOD- 
WARD HOUSE  GIVES  IMPORTANT 
INFORMATION  ABOUT  MR.  ALLI- 
SON'S VISITS  THERE." 

I  glared  at  the  words.  At  first  they  meant 
nothing.  A  few  seconds  of  mental  groping,  and 


March.  353 

I  recollected  Crosson,  the  man  I  had  caused  to 
be  sent  away. 

"What  shall  I  do?" 

There  were  many  more  papers.  Ought  I  find 
out  more  of  the  infamous  falsehoods  New  York 
was  reading  ?  No — I  would  not.  But  as  I  threw 
the  second  sheet  down,  in  spite  of  myself  I  read : 

"RUMORS  THAT  MR.  WOODWARD 
WILL  INSTITUTE  LIBEL  SUIT 
AGAINST  TWO  DAILY  PAPERS." 

A  law-suit,  in  my  imagination,  was  a  horror, 
a  disgrace.  And  a  law-suit  about  me !  To  be  read 
of  not  only  here,  but  in  Graytown !  And  every- 
thing lies,  black,  diabolical  inventions,  while  the 
guilty  went  untouched ! 

«  o— O— O— Oh  !  " 

Distracted,  I  ran  screaming  back  to  my  room, 
to  be  rapidly  followed  by  Perkins,  who  it  seems, 
had  been  strictly  forbidden  to  leave  me  one  in- 
stant alone.  Evidently  for  an  excellent  reason. 

"  Madam,  Madam !  I  thought  you  were  asleep ! 
Oh,  what  will  the  master  say,  if  you  have  seen  the 
papers !  "  Perkins  wrung  her  hands. 

I  pushed  her  away  as  she  knelt  beside  me. 

"  It  was  wrong  to  deceive  me  so  long !  O — O 
— O — O  !  Perkins,  how  could  you  lie  to  me  ? 
Everybody  in  the  world  is  a  liar !  " 

23 


354  Dainty  Devils. 

"  I  lie  to  you  ?  I  never  did,  God  knows,"  tear- 
fully solemn. 

"  You  should  have  told  me,"  I  reproached  her, 
bitterly. 

"  The  master  forbid.  And  indeed,  what  good 
could  I  do?  The  reporters  asked  for  you  often 
enough,  to  be  sure.  The  house  has  been  over- 
run with  the  creatures." 

This  last  was  uttered  in  such  superior  disdain 
that  in  the  midst  of  my  suffering  I  scented  some- 
thing back  of  it,  and  asked : 

"What  did  they  do,  Perkins?" 

"  Huh !  They  asked  a  million  impudent  ques- 
tions and  when  I'd  answered  'em  as  Mr.  Wood- 
ward ordered,  they  put  me  into  the  papers  as 
'  Mrs.  Woodward's  Ancient  Serving- Woman  ! ' ' 

Only  a  step  from  laughter  to  tears,  and  when 
one  is  hysterical,  only  a  jerk  from  tears  to  ner- 
vous laughter.  Probably  at  the  moment  they 
were  lowering  Allison  into  his  grave,  I  burst  into 
uproarious  laughter,  at  the  title  which,  pictorially 
at  least,  fitted  Perkins  with  such  delicious  per- 
fection. 

"  Madam  !  O  !  Lordy  !  Has  she  lost  her  rea- 
son !  What  shall  I  say  to  the  master  ?  And  in- 
deed he  said  he  feared  for  her  mind  !  " 

Still  I  laughed,  painfully,  mirthlessly,  and 
could  not  stop. 

Perkins  has  boundless  faith  in  aromatic  spirits 


March.  355 

of  ammonia.  Having  regarded  me  with  con- 
science-stricken horror  for  several  seconds,  she 
brightened  at  last,  and  rising  from  her  knees 
flew  to  prepare  a  dose  for  me. 

Sputtering  I  gulped  it  down,  and  after  a  while, 
relapsed  into  merely  an  occasional  giggle,  which 
improvement  Perkins  gratefully  laid  to  her  medi- 
cine. When,  however,  a  dreadful  fit  of  weeping 
presently  came  upon  me,  she  sat  down  in  silent 
despair  and  cried  with  me,  most  of  the  long, 
wretched  day,  till  Jack  came  home.  I  am  not 
ashamed  to  say  that  I  was  soothed  by  the  fact  that 
Perkins's  tears  were  for  me. 

Perkins  very  courageously  met  Jack  in  the 
hall  and  made  her  confession — I  had  been  left 
alone,  and  had  found  the  papers.  There  was  an 
angry  exclamation,  quickly  smothered,  and  fol- 
lowed by  a  few  calm  words  directing  Perkins  to 
be  more  faithful  to  her  trust  in  the  future.  Sob- 
bingly,  she  promised,  and  reiterated  her  apologies 
again  and  again.  With  one  of  the  mightiest 
efforts  I  have  ever  made,  I  greeted  Jack 
calmly  as  he  came  to  me,  sad  and  anxious,  and 
whispered : 

"  Never  mind,  dear — I  had  to  know  it  some 
time." 

"  Dear  little  Dot !  I  feared  you  would  not  be 
so  brave." 

What  wife  who  loves  her  husband,  is  not  brave 


356  Dainty  Devils. 

so  long  as  his  arm  is  around  her?  It  is  when 
Jack  is  away  that  my  heart  seems  breaking  with 
grief  and  disappointment  and  the  bitter  sense  of 
horrible  injustice  not  only  to  me,  but  to  poor 
dead  Allison.  I  cannot  sleep  or  rest,  and  I 
have  refused  to  leave  the  house  all  this  time. 
Neither  will  I  allow  anyone  to  see  me,(  except 
Marion.  She  is  very  quiet,  and  will  not 
speak  of  the  newspapers.  In  truth,  we  are  both 
silent  and  constrained  during  the  hours  we  spend 
together,  and  never  mention  Allison,  Lou,  Belle, 
or  Percy  Earle.  Are  we  afraid  ? 


Jack  took  me  to  Lakewood  for  ten  days.  I 
was  no  better  there,  and  was  glad  to  come  home. 
The  newspapers  have  at  last  dropped  Mr.  Alli- 
son and  all  who  knew  him,  from  their  sensa- 
tional columns.  But  I  shrink  back  in  the  carriage 
every  time  I  pass  anyone  I  know,  for  the  stares 
cut  me  as  no  one,  not  even  precious  Jack,  can 
understand,  and  I  imagine  that  behind  every  cor- 
dial word  lie  unspoken  ridicule  and  condemna- 
tion. If  I  dared,  I  would  go  back  to  Graytown, 
my  dear  old  home,  where  only  a  little  over  a 
year  ago  I  met  Jack,  and  was  so  happy  in  the 
firm  belief  that  the  world  was  as  good  and  true 
as  it  is  beautiful! 

Dr.  Stanton,  because  Jack  wished  it,  has  or' 


March.  357 

dered  me  a  tonic,  which  I  obediently  swallow,  and 
I  suppose,  without  harm.  Whenever  Marion  is 
here,  I  make  her  take  some,  and,  oddly 
enough,  it  does  seem  to  benefit  her.  She  is  get- 
ting stouter,  and  her  eyes  have  lost  their  weary 
expression.  I  am  glad  Dr.  Stanton's  time  and 
trouble  are  not  entirely  wasted,  although  they 
have  not  helped  the  patient  for  whom  they  were 
intended. 

Lou  is  hurriedly  settling  up  her  affairs,  as  she 
and  Belle  will  sail  for  Europe  next  month.  Jack 
told  me,  very  sadly,  that  Belle  will  probably  be 
left  in  a  sanitarium  in  Paris,  where  Lou  pur- 
poses spending  a  year  visiting  friends.  I  have 
not  seen  them,  nor  will  I,  even  to  say  good-bye. 
Lou  did  nothing  to  prevent  my  being  named  as 
the  cause  of  her  divorce.  I  am  neither  hypocrite 
enough  nor  Christian  enough  to  forgive  her  SQ 
soon. 


APRIL. 

DR.  STANTON  has  told  Jack  to  take  me  to  Swit- 
zerland. The  doctor  seems  to  think  I  need  a 
high  altitude  after  my  recent  experiences.  I  am 
quite  certain  that  I  do — Only  even  more  a 
high  mental  plane,,  than  any  amount  of  material 
Alps.  Jack  has  tried  all  sorts  of  diversion  here 
— mostly  along  his  favorite  line  of  gifts — and 
when  a  St.  Bernard  puppy,  a  new  automobile,  and 
a  whole  string  of  pear-shaped  pearls,  failed 
to  stimulate  me — although  administered  in  rapid 
succession — the  dear  old  chap  gave  in  to  the 
blues,  and  I  believe  asked  Dr.  Stanton  whether 
I  were  going  to  die.  This  question  must  have 
disgusted  the  venerable  physician  beyond  meas- 
ure. Jack  told  me,  in  rather  an  aggrieved  way, 
that  I  possessed  a  perfect  constitution,  and  that 
Dr.  Stanton  said  all  I  needed  was  to  be,  "  Got- 
ten out  of  this."  Which  phrase,  translated, 
means  across  the  wide  ocean — blessed  barrier  for 
many  a  tortured  soul! — and  amongst  new  indi- 
viduals and  conditions. 

At  this  message  I  copiously  wept:  because  I 

358 


April.  359 

weep  at  everything  now-a-days.  More  mature 
consideration  of  it  dried  my  tears.  So  far  from 
the  place  where  so  much  misery  and  treachery 
have  occurred,  I  hope  I  shall  be  able  to  forget 
a  great  deal.  That  roaring  ocean  ought  to  be 
able  to  drown  the  voices  I  frequently  fancy  I 
hear,  startling  me  in  a  nervous  terror  out  of 
sleep,  or  even  waking  tranquillity.  "  Good-bye, 
Lou !  "  Those  words  of  poor  Allison  haunt  me 
dreadfully;  as  though  his  soul  would  not  suffer 
itself  to  be  forgotten,  they  ring  out  apparently 
close  beside  me,  and  I  jump,  and  then  cringe, 
waiting  for  the  following  pistol-shot. 

Looking  back  the  few  months  I  have  lived  in 
New  York,  my  life  appears  a  succession  of  night- 
mares. Why  was  I  so  tortured  ?  Ridiculed,  crit- 
icised into  a  condition  of  morbid  sensitiveness  and 
distrust,  at  the  last  I  was  used  as  a  scape-goat 
for  a  wicked  and  unprincipled  woman.  What 
brutal  instinct  led  Lou  to  drag  me  into  the  pres- 
ence of  her  tragedy  ?  There  were  scores  of 
her  friends  who,  lightly  enough,  would  have  acted 
this  r61e  for  her.  Only  there  was  none  whom 
Allison  had  approved,  none  to  whom  he  had 
ever  displayed  aught  beyond  the  coldest  formal 
courtesy.  He  happened  to  like  me;  and  Lou, 
calculating  cleverly  as  well  as  unscrupulously, 
found  a  plausible  victim  presented  by  circum- 
stances, innocent  as  the  dreams  of  a  child. 


360  Dainty  Devils. 

Proud  Gretchen  von  Waldeck!  In  the  minds 
of  many  you  stand  disgraced,  none  the  less  be- 
cause entirely  unjustly.  Why  do  you  complain? 
Do  not  men  go  to  the  electric-chair,  convicted 
upon  circumstantial  evidence  ?  To  my  husband's 
face,  Lou  dared  to  say,  "  Appearances  were 
against  Dot."  And  for  appearances  am  I  crushed 
and  humbled,  in  order  that  she  may  play  the 
wronged  one  to  her  world.  Ah  well !  Another 
wretch  is  deprived  of  his  Constitutional  right  to 
life,  liberty  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness,  upon 
no  firmer  ground. 

What  did  poor  Emperor  Frederick  use  as  his 
motto? — Learn  to  suffer  without  complaining. 
I  cannot.  The  waters  of  bitterness  are  upon  me, 

and  in  my  despair  I  must  cry  out. 

******* 

Lou  accomplished  her  own  defeat.  She  proved 
herself  too  wicked  for  Percy  Earle.  Her 
intended  master-stroke  was  her  destruction,  and 
completely  cured  the  boy  of  his  folly.  Turning 
in  his  sickening  remorse  and  humiliation  to  Mar- 
ion, he  found  all  the  opposites  of  Lou's  revolting 
characteristics.  It  was  not  Dr.  Stanton's  tonic 
which  helped  Marion:  Percy  has  been  the 
miracle-worker  and  Marion's  face  shines  in  a 
new  and  different  fashion,  that  does  not  cause  an 
unhappy  foreboding  of  her  early  demise.  Some 
time  before  Christmas,  I  am  to  crown  her  with 


April.  361 

orange-blossoms,  and,  as  matron-of-honor,  pre- 
cede her  up  the  aisle  of  St.  Clara's,  to  the  music 
of  the  Wedding  March.  Dr.  Bliss,  and  not  the 
curate,  will  officiate. 

In  a  dusky  corner  of  the  library,  Marion  and 
Percy  sit  side-by-side.  They  talk  in  those  short 
sentences  following  long  silences,  which  belong 
peculiarly  to  lovers.  Marion  says,  "  Dearest," 
Percy  responds,  "  Sweetheart."  There  was  more, 
but  I  caught  only  these  words. 

The  hate  in  my  heart  wavers,  then  fades  away. 
Hope  enters,  in  full  strength  and  beauty,  smil- 
ing, promising.  The  dim  library  becomes  a  place 
of  refulgent  glory,  for  love  is  here.  Glancing  at 
Marion  and  Percy,  who  could  continue  in  de- 


spair 


Into  the  twilight  the  figure  of  the  Master  seems 
to  steal,  benignant  as  at  that  far-away  Marriage- 
feast  in  Cana  of  Galilee.  The  miracle  of  love 
is  wrought  again.  For,  suddenly  animated  by 
a  fresh,  life-giving  faith  in  human  nature  and 
its  highest  possibilities,  my  whole  soul  exclaims, 
in  a  burst  of  grateful  jubilation : 

"  The  waters — the  most  bitter  waters — are 
turned  into  wine!" 

THE  END. 


A       f\f\  ""illll 


